Distractions
by bregolove101
Summary: Both Simon Lewis and Isabelle Lightwood need a distraction. And the perfect one is eachother.  I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS! THEY ARE THE WORK OF CREATIVE GENIUS CASSANDRA CLARE!
1. Chapter 1

Simon watched the stars, his eye tracing the patterns of constellations that would shine eternally in the dark. _Kinda like me, _he thought with a wry grin.

He couldn't sleep anymore. Not because vampires couldn't sleep, he could, but because he simply didn't want to. There was no cure to his boredom in sleep. That's what he truly need. A distraction. Something to take his mind off eternity, which was all that had been filling it up since Valentine's defeat. Maia had stayed in Alicante with Luke while he tried to find a proper replacement as the werewolf representative to the Clave. He spent his days with guys, as usual, but they seemed so, so- dare he say it?- _mundane._ There minds were always filled with such meaningless nonsense that had used to keep him entertained, but now had lost its effect. And Clary-Clary was always busy with her training, and Jace. Always Jace.

So all he had was his home's rooftop, an endless canvas of stars, and constant thoughts concerning his future circling his mind. He couldn't help but wonder, where was he going? And every time he came up with the same answer: Nowhere. Simon Lewis would be stuck as a sixteen year old for the rest of infinity. That didn't sit well with him.

He would never order a drink at a mundane bar. He would never find out if in time he would have filled out more. He would never have another growth spurt. He would have to watch as everyone he had ever loved moved forward, and he would stay in the same spot. He would have to watch his loved ones die, knowing he wouldn't. Clary, his mom, the guys, Luke, Sebastian, Maia. Hell, even Jace.

Isabelle.

A new lance of pain shot through his heart with each name he thought up. He couldn't bear the thought of having to go through that. He wished so badly that he was human once again. For the hundred thousandth time, he wondered "What if?". What if he had never gone back to Hotel Dumont? What if he had never even gone to that stupid party at Magnus Bane's? What if he had never pursued Clary when she had disappeared into the Shadowhunter world?

He would still be human. He would still feel queasy around blood instead of filled with some mad thirst that consumed his every thought if he didn't quench it.

_But you wouldn't have Clary. You wouldn't have Maia. You wouldn't have Isabelle._ The last name woke a mix of confusing emotions within him. He didn't know how he felt around Isabelle.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He blinked in slight surprise even as his hand went into his pocket, and pressed the talk button. His mind still couldn't completely catch up with his body most of the time.

"Hello," he asked into the receiver, his voice breaking the silence of the night.

"Simon. It's Isabelle."

_Speak of the devil. _Simon winced as the saying came to mind. He hated how he could still say devil, but could barely _think _God.

"What's up," he asked, leaning back against the chimney.

"I-," Isabelle paused, breathing in a quick breath that sounded suspiciously wet. "Are you doing anything?"

Simon could tell from her brisk tone that she was trying to hide the pain in her voice, but after the night they had spent in Alicante, Isabelle couldn't get much past Simon.

"Not really," he replied, staring around at the empty night stretched before him. "It's almost two on Wednesday night. I don't think anybody's doing anything. Unless you count the psychos and the serial killers. But I don't like to group them with the general crowd."

Her small exasperated laugh barely managed to cover the sniffle behind it.

"Are you okay?" he asked, softening his voice. She'd hate it, but he couldn't help it. Some side of him demanded he help sniffling women. He doubted it was the vampire side.

Isabelle was quiet for a few seconds too long, and when she did speak she had mastered control over her voice. "I need a distraction," she almost purred.

A strange sort of twinge happened in the pit of Simon's stomach as she said the words. He remembered her last distraction all too clearly. Vampirism captured everything in crystal clarity. Of course they hadn't gone too far. She was upset then, and he would never take advantage of her in such a fragile state, but that wasn't saying she didn't try.

Did he want to do that again?

_Yes_. The voice spoke a little too loudly for his liking.

_Bad idea. She's upset. She's just trying to run away from it._ Simon bit his lip, torn.

But hadn't he just thought a few minutes ago that he needed a distraction himself?

"Where are you?" he found himself asking.

"The institute, but I can be at your place in twenty minutes." Her voice was eager. She was obviously pleased that he was taking her up on her offer.

"My place," Simon repeated, his eyes flicking down to the roof he was sitting on. How did she know it was empty? His Mom had gone on some tour of Italy for a week. She had asked if he wanted to come, but he had said no. He didn't really know why, just that he wanted to stay close to New York for a while. He wanted to absorb as much of it as he could before he had to leave, for the obvious reasons. Eventually someone in the city would realize he wasn't aging any.

"Is that okay?" Now she sounded slightly irritated with him. Her impatience came through loud and clear.

"Yes," he said before he could stop himself.

"Good. See you soon."

"Bye." Simon murmured even though he knew she was already gone. Numbly he closed his phone and slid it back into his pocket.

"What am I doing," he groaned, resting his suddenly tired head into his waiting hands.


	2. Chapter 2: Unveiled

So, this is the second part to my story. Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Unveiled

Simon sat on the couch in his living room, watching the door. He hadn't wasted much time getting down from the roof and changing into a t-shirt a pair of jeans that were actually clean. Then, at a loss for what to do, he had sat down on the couch, and he had been there for a half hour now.

The ticking of the clock on the mantel was annoyingly loud, filling up the space around him until he thought his head was about to explode. He missed silence. When he was human he had always hated what silence hid, but ever since his vampire hearing had kicked in, he had been craving it. As a human he had always wasted the silence wondering what it held. Now, as a vampire, Simon realized he should have been using it as a way of calming himself. He longed for the ease in which one could lose themselves when there was nothing to distract themselves with.

Being a human was far easier than being a vampire.

He heard the sound of tires pulling into the driveway, and was at the door in a flash. As he turned the knob, he found himself wondering if his hair was lying flat or sticking up around him in a halo. For some reason this mattered to him.

The open door revealed a lovely -and deadly, Simon reminded himself- Isabelle Lightwood exiting a cab with an extremely annoyed looking driver counting bills in the front. Simon felt that same twinge as he had when they were talking on the phone as Isabelle walked towards him. Her long hair was loose around her shoulders, constantly moving in the breeze. She had a loose sweater pulled over a tight corset-like shirt that would have any man drooling, and was wearing extremely tight leather leggings with knee-high boots.

She didn't look upset in the slightest. She looked determined.

Simon found himself backing up as she mounted the steps to her door. She had a look in her blue eyes that he didn't (Well, maybe a part of him did) like at all. She stopped right in front of the door, one hand planted on a stuck out hip.

"Hey," she said, smiling slightly.

"You-" Words were having trouble forming. "I-." He sucked in a deep breath, forgetting vampires didn't breath. "Hey," he finally managed. "Come on in."

Isabelle brushed past him, throwing her hair over her shoulder along the way. Simon caught the smell of peppermint wafting in the air towards him. He closed the door, suddenly feeling a little flustered. All he could do was stare at Isabelle as she stood in his mundane living room, and marvel at how much she did not belong there.

She looked over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. "What's the matter? Are you usually this shy in your own home?"

Simon would have blushed if there was any blood in his body to do it with. He slowly made his way into the living room, always keeping his eyes on the unpredictable Isabelle. He couldn't tell if she was about to jump him the way she had in Alicante again.

She didn't look at him again for a while, her eyes roaming around the room like it was far more interesting than it actually was. Simon waited, his arms hanging limply at his sides, and his tongue sitting like lead in a dry mouth. What was there to say?

Finally Isabelle turned to him. The fire of determination in her eyes had burned out, leaving a strange emptiness that scared Simon. That wasn't a normal look for Isabelle. She quickly averted her gaze, crossing her arms over her chest in a strangely protective manner. Something else Isabelle Lightwood did not do. She was always filled to the brim with confidence, but now she looked deflated, like a shell of herself.

"Isabelle?" Simon ventured cautiously. "Is something wrong."

"No." But her voice was small. Not her own.

"Yes, there is," he countered. "You're not acting like yourself."

She looked up, her eyes blazing. "So, what? How am I supposed to act, Simon? What is myself like, exactly? Were you expecting me to just come over here, and rip my clothes off? Is that how you see me? A slut?"

Simon was only slightly taken aback by her outburst. This was more like the Izzy he knew. Strong, fiery, and yes, slightly crazed.

"No, Izzy," he said patiently, finding himself relaxing as she became more like herself. "I don't think you're a slut. I just thought you looked upset, that was all."

She looked away from him, her jaw set. Her silver and bronze bangles clanged together ever so slightly, as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. Now that she was closer, he could see her eyeliner was smudged ever so slightly around the edges, like she had quickly cleaned it up.

"I don't think I'm doing a very good job of distracting you," he muttered, and then shut his mouth with a click because to him it sounded like he was trying to seduce her.

She snorted, as his abashed facade. "No, not really. But maybe I didn't want a distraction after all."

He couldn't help but feel a little offended at that. He was sure his wince was visible.

"Don't be stupid, Simon," Isabelle snapped brusquely. "I wasn't trying to insult you. If I was, I would have done it in a far more creative way." She smirked, walking past him to the mantel, and glancing over the pictures sitting there.

"Oh. Well, that's a relief," Simon murmured, unable to keep the edge of sarcasm out of his voice.

He thought he saw her cheek lift. He couldn't keep the feeling of deep satisfaction away at the thought that it had been _him_ that had made her smile.

He walked up behind her, peering over her shoulder to see which picture she was looking at. It was the one of him and his mother sitting in a café in Tuscany. He didn't like looking at pictures of himself as a human, but Isabelle seemed enthralled. She reached up to take it down, holding it in front of her. A strand of raven hair fell over her face, covering it.

"Does she know?" She asked, tapping the glass above his mother's face without turning to look at him. "About you being a vampire, I mean."

"No," he answered softly, looking down at his feet. She wasn't doing a good job of distracting him either. "I just can't seem to get it out. Clary gave me these stupid pamphlets to help me."

"The coming-out ones." She giggled, setting the picture back on the mantel.

"Yeah." He grinned at the sound of her laugh. "I just can't help feeling that telling your loving parent you're a vampire is on a slightly different level than telling them you're gay. No, wait, it's on a different spectrum."

Isabelle turned to face him, a smile curving her rosy lips. His fingers itched to brush the hair away from her face. She seemed to be using it as a blanket to cover herself. He remembered that night they had spent together in Alicante, how all her barriers had crumbled around her in a jagged heap, and he had finally been able to see the true Isabelle. He had seen past her body, and makeup, and all those glittering weapons that always seemed to be covering her body. He had seen past the 'hot and dangerous Shadowhunter' façade to see the truly beautiful Isabelle.

_Do you not trust me?_ he wanted to ask her. _Am I really just a distraction? Perhaps I'm just a way to rebel against your parents like Meliorn was._ The thoughts filled him with an ache he couldn't quite place.

He didn't want to be some pawn at her disposal. He wanted to dig deeper than any other person had. He wanted to know her.

A sudden boldness overcame him, and he found his hands moving forward. His fingers touched her skin as they slowly pushed the long strands of hair away from her face, and behind her ear. Her skin was warm, a sensation so unfamiliar to him these days. He found himself dragging his fingers back along her cheek as his had came down, relishing in the warmth, and the smooth velvety, softness of her skin.

She turned her head to look up at him, her eyes widening slightly.

Simon suddenly realized what he was doing. He dropped his hand quickly, glad he didn't blush anymore or else his face would be painted the most embarrassing shade of red.

"Sorr-," he began, but was cut off when Isabelle unexpectedly surged upward, her arms wrapping around his neck. Her two beautiful eyes merged into one as she kissed him.

It barely took a second for him to react. His arms snaked around her thin, toned body, bringing her as close to him as possible. He kissed her back, just as eager as she seemed to be. Her lips were warm, soft, and delicious. Now that she was so close the smell of peppermint was everywhere. He marvelled at how he could still be attracted to the scent, even after death.

She forced his lips apart, her teeth nipping his bottom lip. He felt, rather than heard, a strange sound reverberate through his chest. Her long body was melding into his. They seemed to be connected all along the body. He could feel the heat now blazing from her skin, the frenzied beating of her heat, the blood pumping through her veins.

The kiss lasted for what seemed like forever, and Simon didn't really want it to end, but before long Isabelle had to come up for air. He should have been panting after such a heated kiss, like Isabelle was, her chest rising and falling, flushed with heat, but his chest remained perfectly still. Her cheeks were slightly pink as she looked up at him, blue eyes sparkling.

"Was that the distraction you were looking for?" The question came out slightly strangled.

She gave him a small smile before breaking her hold around his neck, and reaching behind her to slide his hands off her waist. She stepped out of his reach, and withdrew her phone from her pocket.

"I should be getting back to the Institute. Mom would freak if she knew where I was." Her voice was completely neutral, almost non-chalant, as if they hadn't just shared one of the most heated kisses in the history of the earth.

_Maybe she does that all the time_, Simon thought with a pang. He watched her, saying nothing, as she dialled the number of a taxi service. She quickly gave whoever answered the instructions they needed, and slipped the phone back into her sweater's pocket.

"So, you're leaving?" He couldn't keep an edge of anger from entering his voice.

"Mmm." She unhooked her hair from behind her ear, letting it fall over her face once more.

Simon felt his body light with anger and frustration. What was with this girl? Just when he thought he may be grasping a hold on her, she slipped away.

"Hey," he said, gripping her arm in his iron, vampire grip. He was feeling recklessly bold tonight. He forced her to turn to him.

She raised her eyebrows at him as she turned, looking coolly dangerous as she fought to break his hold. He didn't let her. Her eyebrows came down to create a menacing 'v'. "Let go, vampire."

"Oh, so I'm just vampire now," he asked, his fingers tightening. "Or was I always just vampire instead of Simon. What the hell is going on with you? You come here needing a 'distraction', you kiss me like _that_ and then you tell me you need to go!"

She just looked away from her, her jaw jutting out in defiance. He let go, flinging her arm away from him as if it burned.

"I'm not going to play your stupid games, Isabelle. I don't like being used as a make out tool, so tell me right now what the hell is going on here-," he gestured between them with an angry hand, "- or you can forget about "distractions"!"

She looked slightly taken aback by his outburst. Her eyes were shining as she looked away with him, and not with happiness. The light from the ceiling caught a single tear in its net of light, illuminating it to Simon. He watched it slowly run down her cheek, onto her jaw line, and disappear into her hair.

"Ah, Isabelle," he groaned, gripping his hair in his finger as if he wanted to rip it out. "Don't cry, Izzy."

He walked forward, lightly touching her arm with his fingers. She flinched away from him, turning so he couldn't look at her face. He let her turn her back on him, but lightly rested his hands on her shoulders, coming up right behind her. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

"Is it Max?" he asked gently, tracing one thumb over her back in a hopefully soothing manner.

She didn't answer for a long time, but finally hiccupped, "Part of it."

"Part of it," Simon repeated, thinking. "What's the other part? Alec, Jace. Go-," he choked on the next part of his sentence, before improvising, "Heaven knows Jace can be a pain in the ass when he wants to. And that's usually twenty-four seven."

She gave a little laugh, reaching up with one hand, and brushing it across her cheek. It came away wet. He slowly turned her around, and she didn't stop him, though she kept her head tilted down. He reached under her chin with two fingers, and pulled it up. Her eyes met his, and suddenly she was shaking her head vehemently.

"Simon," she sighed, sounding frustrated. "I can't-," she stopped, her shoulders raising in a sigh.

"What is it?" he asked gently, keeping her chin between his fingers so she couldn't look away.

The sound of car tires reached his ears, as lights flashed through the front window, illuminating the room in bright yellow light. He sighed in frustration, glaring at the taxi.

"I should go," Isabelle murmured, taking a step away from him. She practically jogged for the door, Simon trailing behind her. She opened the door, and Simon watched how the headlights seemed to bounce off her pale skin.

She hesitated, one foot out the door. She looked over her shoulder, her hair shimmering with the reflection of stars and streetlights. There was a guarded look in her eyes, but what she said next was completely unguarded.

"I needed a distraction to stop myself from thinking about you, Simon. This wasn't the best place to find it."

And leaving a stunned vampire at the door, she loped off into the night.

I'm sure you're tired of hearing it, but PLEASE REVIEW! It means a lot!


	3. Chapter 3: Complications

**Soo, this Chapter is just a wee bit longer than the others. Okay, try double, but don't let that turn you off! Enjoy!**

Chapter 3: Complications

Simon was a vampire suffering from insomnia.

He lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to even close his eyes. Thoughts and images were passing through his mind in a long, confusing parade. He thought about kissing Clary, and how good it had felt. He had loved Clary for longer than he could remember. It had always been so simple to him. There was no other girl that could compare to her. But then Isabelle had come barrelling into the picture, burning brighter than fireworks with her untamed, fiery passion for life. It had felt like he had been hit with a hammer. Of course, he hadn't gotten over Clary right away. Isabelle had been a sort of distraction for him, but sometimes - sometimes he had felt them connect on a deeper level.

And then there was Maia, of course. He felt an unexpected surge of guilt as he pictured the werewolf's pretty face. He knew Maia was in to him, even if he didn't know why. But that didn't mean he should feel guilty for kissing Izzy. Did it?

Maia was a really great girl, and to be honest, he did find her tough, New York, werewolf personality appealing. He felt comfortable around her in a way he didn't when he was around Isabelle. There was no guessing about what she was really thinking, no worrying about coded messages, no unpredictable mood swings that left him completely baffled. With Maia, everything was straightforward and on the table. Why couldn't Isabelle be more like that?

'_I needed a distraction to stop myself from thinking about you, Simon.' _Isabelle's parting words echoed through him, awakening a whole new load of question with no answers.

He simply couldn't believe that Izzy had wasted much time thinking about him. He was nothing compared to her. She could move through life with apparent ease, stomping anything that got in her way with high heeled boots, and quickly moving past it. In her wake was a sea of drooling, worshipping men that she could take her pick from any time of the day. Simon admitted he had once been in that sea, but why on earth had Isabelle Lightwood singled out a guy like him, one who could barely stumble through his tangled life, let alone glide.

"Ah," he groaned aloud, startling his cat who was curled up at the foot of his bed as far away from Simon as possible. Ever since Valentine had broken into Simon's house, the thing had been hissing and spitting at its own shadow. It spent most of the day hiding under his desk, ready to attack his feet whenever he tried to sit down.

His hands raised to cover his face. There were too many damn complications in his life!

_Just, please, let me sleep_, he thought desperately. He didn't know who he was talking to, seeing as it couldn't be God. Praying wasn't an option for him anymore. Maybe he was talking to his own stubborn mind who didn't seem able to give it a rest.

Maybe, he could have ignored all the other images and questions bouncing around up there if it hadn't been for one thing: Every time Simon closed his eyes all he could feel was Isabelle's warm body against his cold one. All he could smell was peppermint, filling his nose and blotting out every other smell in the room. All he could taste was her lipgloss. And all he could see was Isabelle's beautiful face as she snaked her arms around him, and leaned in for a kiss.

Isabelle was not a fan of this sudden inability to control her own emotions. She had never been so irresponsible and weak in her entire life. Her concentration wavered in the middle of hunting, her thoughts always turned away from the task at hand, her mind felt like it was suddenly filled with cotton, and worse of all she had totally lost all interest in boys.

_While, every boy but one_, she found herself thinking, her mind filling with the image of Simon.

"Ah," she hissed, raising her whip and bringing it down on the target at her feet. The material of the dummy ripped as the electrum wire wrapped around it, allowing straw to spring up like growing grass. She smiled, flicking the wire free to wrap around a dummy standing a few feet away. The faceless head fell free of its body as she tugged the wire through its neck.

So far, this was the best distraction she had been able to come up with. She had come down as soon as she had awoken from one of the worst sleeps she had ever had in her life. She knew what had been keeping her up, and she did not like it. So, she had attempted to switch from weakling mode to fighting mode, allowing her body to overshadow her mind. The only problem was that it just wasn't working out for her, because every time she slipped, just a tiny bit, a certain kiss dwarfed everything else around her.

She hit the dummy harder in the chest, focusing only on how the straw sprang through the new rips she had created. She imagined it as a demon, wrong and horribly twisted. Killing them was the only thing she truly lived for. Her wrist flicked a dozen different times, her feet carrying her around the room faster than even she thought possible. She dove, and rolled, succumbing to her instincts. She fainted right, before darting left, producing a seraph blade from her belt. Her lips formed the angel's name, and she felt the blade warm in her hand as it blazed with holy light. Two arms moved simultaneously; one sent a dagger into the dummy's heart, the other tore its arm off with her whip.

She bared her teeth, not pausing before rushing in on the thing. Her left hand punched outward, fist connecting with its chest. Straw scraped against her knuckles, but she barley felt a thing. Another punch, this time with the but of her whip. One, two knees drove upwards. Another punch, a well aimed kick, slamming the angel blade into the thing's heart, imagining black blood bubbling through the hole it punched. Her lips tugged into a grin as she danced backward, and with a cry of bloodlust, she brought her whip down with her entire body behind it. The wire sliced the thing into shreds.

Isabelle sensed movement behind her, and whipped around, her weapons bared.

Jace raised his eyebrows from where he leaned against the doorframe. The gas lamps that illuminated the large, stone room, reflected off his golden hair, and made his tawny eyes sparkle.

"Well, I think you showed _that_ dummy." He congratulated her with two sharp, staccato claps of his hands.

She glanced behind her, her eyes widening at the mess she had created. The thing was barely still on its stand. It hung down, not one piece of material left un-shredded. Beside it lay its arm, and across the room its decapitated head rested against the stone brick wall. Straw absolutely coated the ground.

"What do you want, Jace?" she asked, slightly coolly. She knew how good her 'brother' could read her. She knew that he knew all about her sudden lack of concentration and willpower. He might even know why it was happening.

"Well, I was walking past and just happened to hear sounds resembling the screeches of a dying cat. Naturally, I ran to aide this poor animal, but when I arrived it was just you." His eyes glinted with amusement. "You can imagine my disappointment when I found out I was not going to be able to be a hero today."

Isabelle rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, wrapping her whip around her forearm, and tucking the blade back into the belt. Her face was flushed, and she could feel her hair plastered to her forehead. Gross. She needed a shower, pronto.

Jace sighed at her lack of response, and shoved himself away from the wall. "If you were curious, Maryse is making bacon and eggs, and Luke's here. He brought-,"

"Luke?" Isabelle's head snapped up. "Did he have any news?"

"Um, cinnamon buns were on sale today," Jace responded with a shrug. "Does that count?"

Isabelle ignored him, shoving past , and tying her hair up into a loose bun. She could sense rather than hear Jace hurrying behind her, and she knew he was wondering what on earth was going on with her.

Her boots clicked slightly against the hard floor of the Institute, a result of endless corridors of cold stone. Not that she minded, of course. She loved this place. She loved the mystery that surrounded it, how gargoyles and grotesques grinned down at her, how vaulting flew over her head, and piers supported the most wonderfully crafted gothic arches. She truly felt more at home here than anywhere else in the world - except, maybe, Idris.

She had heard Clary once describe that everyday she woke up here it was like waking up in a new fairytale. Maybe to a girl who spent most of her days in the mundane world, it would feel like that. But to Isabelle Lightwood, Shadowhunter extraordinaire, this was simply the world she lived in. The Shadowhunter lifestyle hadn't changed that much over the centuries. Isabelle could see how a more modern life could be alluring to many. She enjoyed many of the perks of modern New York City, but to her and most Shadowhunter's alike, they were most comfortable when a veil of secrecy separated them from the mundane world outside.

She reached the door to the kitchen. Church lay beside it, his eyes flicking to Isabelle. She paused only briefly to scratch behind his ears, eliciting a deep purr, before entering the crowded kitchen. Jace slipped in beside her, making his way to where Clary sat talking to someone blocked from her view by her father's bulk. Robert was talking to Luke, both men looking pretty serious, as their low voices filled the room. She was surprised at how happy seeing Luke made her. She wasn't particularly close to him like Clary and Jace and even Simon seemed to be, but she knew him enough to know that she liked him.

"Luke!" she greeted, bounding up beside her father so she could wrap her arms around the werewolf.

"Isabelle," Luke responded, sounding slightly surprised as he hesitantly wound his arms around her. "How are you?"

"Good," she replied, bouncing back to her father's side. She peered past Robert to see who Clary and Jace were talking to. She felt her heart give a surprisingly strong pang of jealousy as she noted the long braided hair, and curvy figure of Maia.

Clary smiled at Isabelle, causing Maia to turn in her seat. She also smiled when she saw the tall Shadowhunter. "Hey, Isabelle!" she greeted, flashing her pretty smile. She was dressed in her customary low slung jeans, and t-shirt combo.

"Maia," Isabelle greeted, nodding her head. She couldn't help but resent the girl's presence just slightly. Though Maia was a nice girl, and one Isabelle could have considered befriending under different circumstances, she just couldn't get over her relationship with Simon. They were practically BFFs.

Isabelle had only recently learned how to befriend a girl when Clary came into her life. However, given how happy she made Jace, Clary was a special exception. Isabelle wasn't ready to extend her friendship to someone she couldn't help but to consider a sort of rival. And a challenging rival at that.

"Luke?" Isabelle interrupted whatever her father had been saying, turning away from the werewolf girl. "Has there been any news about Sebastian?" She could barely control her voice as she asked the question, the image of her little brother, Max, blotting her vision.

The room tensed perceptibly.

She heard her father give a surprise grunt. Across the room, by the stove, Maryse's back straightened, a small hiss slipping through her lips.

"What do you mean, Isabelle?" Luke scratched his chin, looking uncomfortable. He was throwing glances Clary's way, who Isabelle could see had tensed somewhat at the mention of her half-demon brother.

"I mean, about where he is," she clarified, crossing her arms over her chest. Her bangles slid down her arm to meet at her elbow. Their tinkling seemed loud in a suddenly quiet room.

"Yeah, there is." Jace's voice sounded from across the room.

Isabelle whirled to face him, her dark eyes wide.

"In Hell," Jace said flatly. His eyes were expressionless as he looked at his deflating sister. "I know where I stabbed him, Izzy. He's gone. It's just the demon in him, made his body disappear."

Isabelle's hands tightened into fists, as an uncontrollable anger filled her. It came every time she thought about Sebastian, or, rather, Jonathan. To her, Hell wasn't a good enough punishment for what he did to Max. And to her, Jace's explanation concerning his disappearance wasn't good enough. If there was even the slightest chance that Sebastian was still breathing, she would hunt him down and show him what Hell really looked like.

Isabelle closed her eyes with a sigh, forcing herself to be calm. She could have argued, but she knew how angry Jace got when she talked about Valentine's true son. Not to mention her parents. They would never forget what Jonathan did to their little boy.

The room's attention was still focused on her, so she gave a curt nod.

The atmosphere didn't relax.

"Well," Luke broke the taught silence, banging a fist against the countertop, "I should be getting back to Jocelyn's place. She's making us brunch." He raised his eyebrows with a grin. "Always a bit of an adventure." He got his keys out of his pocket, and pointed them in Clary's direction. "You coming?"

Clary shook her head, red curls bouncing. "I'm going to stay here for a while."

"Maia?" Luke asked, swivelling in the were-girl's direction.

She also denied, quickly explaining, "I think I'm gonna head over to Simon's. See if he survived without me." She flashed a brilliant smile.

Isabelle's mood became even fouler.

Luke waved a quick goodbye before exiting the crowded kitchen, his work boots thudding against the floor with every step he took. Isabelle had always thought of werewolves being graceful, but she could have heard Luke from a mile away. Even Clary was wincing.

"While, like I said, I'm gonna split." Maia stood, clapping her hands against her front pockets. She swept her braids into a ponytail, looking towards Clary. "Have you seen Simon lately?"

"No, actually." Clary's brow furrowed as her face transformed into a frown. "I've been really busy, and it's been a while."

"I don't see why you're so sad," Jace interjected, slinging his arm over Clary's shoulder. "I'm twice more interesting to listen to, and a gazillion times better to look at." He flashed his stunning grin, tawny eyes dancing. He seemed to have gotten over his anger at Isabelle's words. "And you get to look at me all day. Now who could be unhappy with that?"

"You're right, Jace," Clary agreed, batting her eyes at him. "I simply have no idea why I would want to take a break from you."

Maia snorted, grabbing her bag from the back of her seat. "Have I ever told you I strongly dislike you?" She asked Jace with a raised eyebrow.

The Shadowhunter boy grinned lazily, waving a hand. "Many times, my dear werewolf. And each time I refuse to believe you."

"Of course." Maia went to leave, but paused as she passed Isabelle. Her large eyes flicked upwards, and Isabelle wished she could spit in them. "Have you seen Simon lately? I know you two are close."

Isabelle could feel Clary and Jace's eyes boring into her from across the room. She was so glad that she did not blush, or else her cheeks would have been scarlet, whether from anger or embarrassment she didn't know.

She remembered the concern in Simon's eyes as he had looked at her the night before; the gentleness about him as he questioned her about her bizarre actions, and the strength that she had felt as he had crushed her against him. She could still smell his scent, a mixture of Downey and a hint of blood. A shiver shot down her spine.

"No," she replied, the lie coming out effortlessly. "I haven't seen him lately."

"Oh." Maia just shrugged, continuing on her way to the door. "I'll see you all later."

Isabelle watched her disappear through the door, barely containing her jealousy. She shook her head, turning back towards Clary and Jace, but both of them were focused away from her, towards her parents. Maryse and Robert didn't look like they had absorbed any of the recent conversation. Their heads were bent together as they talked in lower voices. Suspicion unfurled within her, her eyes narrowing.

Her parents seemed to sense that they were being watched. They raised their heads together, eyes sweeping the silent room.

"Your mother and I have some business to attend to," her father rumbled, picking up a piece of bacon from the sizzling pan before Maryse. His hand was covered with multiple runes. "We'll be back soon."

"Business," Jace repeated slowly. "Before the eggs are even done? Where are your manners!"

Maryse rolled her blue eyes, turning the heat off of the bacon. "How about you finish them, Jace. It will be a good learning opportunity."

Jace's eyebrows rose in surprise, and apparent alarm. "Me? Work? Never. You cook don't you?" he asked Clary, looking desperate.

She gave him a bland smile. "Nope. Come on, Jace, put on that apron."

Maryse's thin lips twitched as if considering pulling into a smile, while Robert's deep laugh filled the room, bouncing off the thick walls. "We'll be back soon." They pushed past Isabelle, her father squeezing her shoulder before leaving the room.

Isabelle didn't feel like spending her morning in such a happy atmosphere. It wasn't distracting enough, and it was leaving her feeling hollow in a strange way. The sensation wasn't something she had experienced until she had met Simon.

"I'm going to take a shower," she muttered, following her parent's path. She pushed through the door, ignoring Clary's burst of laughter behind her, most likely at something ridiculous Jace had come up with in order to impress her.

As soon as the barrier closed between her and the happy couple, she allowed herself to collapse against the wall. She let her head drop into her hands, her fingers massaging her temples. Why did everything seem so empty all of the sudden? She had never cared before she met Simon whether she had someone. Any boy she spent time with was most likely temporary anyway. But now - _now_ the sight of so much happiness just left her feeling like she was the only one missing out. Clary and Jace, Alec and Magnus, even her parents were closer after Max's death. Only Isabelle remained outside the bubble of happiness that had swallowed everyone else.

Was Simon feeling the same way?

"Izzy?" Isabelle nearly jumped. She had been so absorbed in her thoughts, she hadn't even heard Clary come up beside her. As soon as she saw the look of concern on the smaller girl's face, all her barriers flew up. She pushed off the wall, glaring down at Clary. "What?"

Clary held up her hands in a gesture of peace. "Nothing. I just want to talk. I think-," she glanced over her shoulder towards the closed kitchen door, and lowered her voice. "Something happened in Alicante."

Isabelle frowned. "What do you mean?"

Clary looked backwards again, seeming agitated. "Can we go talk in your room, please?"

"Sure." Isabelle tried to keep calm, but inside her heart was slamming against her ribcage, adrenaline sizzling through her veins. She could sense the anxiety surrounding Clary, as if it was tangible thing.

The two girls walked through the Institute side by side. Silence stretched between them like a bridge neither wanted to cross. Clary's agitation only seemed to grow with every step she took. By the time they reached Izzy's door, her lips were swollen from chewing on them so hard. It was really a terrible habit, Isabelle thought. Not complimentary at all.

Isabelle gently closed her door with a gentle click, before turning to regard the other girl. Clary was gazing around the room, eyeing the bounteous piles of clothing covering most of the surfaces in the room. Including the floor. A few weapons may have been scattered around as well. Isabelle just didn't see why someone's room had to be pristine all the time. She felt far more comfortable with her scattered clothing than with pressed bed sheets, and neatly organized boxes. It was so cold. That's why she avoided Jace's room as much as possible. It was too depressing. And lately she'd been depressed enough.

"So?" She finally burst, unable to take the suspense for any longer. "Are you just going to eat your own lip, or tell me what's going on?"

Clary winced, raising her hands to her ears. "Ow! You don't have to yell!"

Isabelle shook her head, holding her hands out before her. "Excuse me? That was not yelling. Believe me, if I yelled at you, you would be cowering."

"Oh, right." Clary grabbed her stele from her pocket, and held out her arm. Isabelle saw the familiar sign for enhanced hearing drawn just below her palm, except it looked slightly altered. She watched, curious, as Clary quickly drew another rune overtop it, and they both melted into her skin, leaving faint scars.

"What was that?" Izzy asked, leaning forward to better see the thin white lines. "It looked like the enhanced-,"

"Hearing, yeah." Clary sighed brushing some fiery curls behind her ear. "I tweaked it a little, so that you could focus more on exactly what you wanted to hear. Before, everything around you was enhanced. With this rune-," she held up her wrist, "-only what you wish to hear is enhanced, while everything else stays at a normal volume. It's good for listening in crowded rooms."

Isabelle arced an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Do you do that often, or-?"

Clary gave her a look, that quickly demolished any of the brief amusement Izzy had found. "Of course not. I was just curious what happened in Idris, so - I listened in to Luke and your Dad." She frowned, her green eyes travelling towards the ceiling. "I think Jace _may_ have noticed I wasn't listening to him."

"Don't worry," Isabelle said, waving an elegant hand as if to clear the air of the thought. "I ignore him all the time. Just tell me what they were saying. I knew something was going on." She raised her chin in triumph, hands forming two fists at her sides. "Did they find Sebastian? Is he dead?"

Clary held up her hands, shaking her head. "Not _exactly_. Listen," she leaned in closer, her voice dropping just above a whisper. "Someone vandalized the Gard."

It took a moment for the words to register, and when they did, Isabelle's mouth opened in shock. No one vandalized the Gard. It was the most well protected building in all of Shadowhunter history, for God's sake. Isabelle thought back to its high walls, covered with protective spells and runes. Shadowhunters never left the place unattended. Anyone who would even think of messing around in the guard was either suicidal or insane. The Clave would never let something like that pass. They would be in a complete uproar. Alicante would be in an uproar.

"That's impossible, Clary." Isabelle asked, making sure the words came out slow and clear. Perhaps it would give Clary the impression that Izzy thought she had the brain of a five year old, but she needed time to organize her thoughts.

"No, somebody managed it." Clary did look slightly offended, but covered it pretty well. "They wrote on the wall - in blood. Shadowhunter blood."

"How do you know it was Shadowhunter?" Isabelle suddenly felt sick.

Clary swallowed, looking slightly nauseated. "Because they left the body below the message. He was a guard."

_Sebastian_. The thought was a snarl that vibrated throughout Isabelle's slim body. He was the only person she knew who was twisted and evil enough to do something like that. She suddenly had an image of sweet little Max, lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor of the Penhallow's kitchen floor. His face had been twisted into one of absolute terror.

Bloodlust overcame her. Her fists clenched so hard that she felt blood trickling down her fingers where her nails had penetrated the skin.

"What did it say?" Though inside Isabelle was consumed by a raging inferno, her voice came out very calm. "The message?"

The blood drained from Clary's face as she repeated the words:

"Valentine's will shall be done."

**DUH DUH DUUUH! **

**So, I may be expanding the story somewhat. . . This whole fan fiction thing is just too fun! Anyway, PLEASE REVIEW! Seriously, I am dying to hear your thoughts on this. Really. Truly. Review!**


	4. Chapter 4: Confusion

**I am so sorry this took so long. I had a MAJOR case of writer's block after I finished Clockwork Angel (which was awesome). I still am not quite happy with it, but you guys deserve another chapter, so here you go. Sorry if the characters are OOC. I really had difficulty with this chapter. . .**

Chapter Four: Confusion

Simon stared at the phone sitting on the table before him. He hadn't moved for over forty-five minutes, and had the feeling he would be there for a lot longer. Though, on the outside he appeared to be a statue, inside, Simon was experiencing a hailstorm of confusion and indecision.

Isabelle had, once again, turned his world upside down and left him dangling from the edge.

He knew if he had any sort of courage at all, he would pick up the phone, and call her, demand to know what was going on. He knew if he was really brave, he would head straight to the Institute and wait outside until Izzy had to come out. And a large part of him wanted to. He needed answers that only Isabelle could give him. And maybe her answers could help him sort out his tangled emotions.

The only problem was, Simon wasn't feeling very brave.

How was it that he had faced a coven of angry vampires crying for his blood, let Clary put the _mark of Cain_ on him knowing full well it could destroy his life, and enter into a massive battle against hordes of demons under the command of a man who wanted more than anything for Downworlders like him to become extinct, but he couldn't even pick up the phone and call Isabelle Lightwood.

He gripped his hair in his hands, gritting his teeth together.

_Because she's a girl, that's why,_ he thought, somewhat savagely. Seriously, though. Was it their singular purpose to mess up as many guys lives as they could? Did Isabelle enjoy doing this to him? She had done the same thing in Alicante. They had spent a very, very long time in liplock, before Simon's logical side had reared up and broken it off so he could _actually_ make her feel better. And they had connected. He had held her the entire night, whispering reassurances, telling her it wasn't her fault. But afterwards, in the days that followed - nothing. There was nothing. Sure, maybe she had flirted slightly at the celebration, but she had also drank way too much faerie beverages, and had ended up in the lap of some warlock who had pointy teeth and creepy green eyes. And now this.

He shook his head, rubbing a hand across his forehead. His fingers paused as they contacted the Mark of Cain. It wasn't that he could _feel_ the mark; his skin was just as smooth there as on the rest of his forehead. But there was _something_ when he passed his hand over it, a sort of - power that shot through him. It left him feeling slightly numb, and definitely wary.

So far, he hadn't felt anything from the mark. He had thought it would affect him as soon as he got home. He didn't exactly know what he had been expecting. Maybe a sudden compulsion that sent him wandering over the earth for the rest of his eternal life, as Cain had. Maybe, the voice of God commanding him that he should leave this life behind. But nothing of the sort had happened. It hadn't even twinged.

Did that comfort him any? No. It made him even more nervous, because he knew with his luck, if he thought for even a second, everything would be okay, it suddenly wouldn't be.

He was terrified he would have to leave New York and everything it held. He had never lived anywhere else. Most of his best and worst moments had played out in the city. Meeting Clary. Starting his band. The night he spent as a rat. Becoming a vampire. His life was written in the stone that made up New York's sidewalks, and he loved it. Ever since Valentine had slit Simon's throat and wrists, nearly ending his immortal life, he had taken a new perspective on life. He realized that, for all its flaws, he loved it, and he never wanted to let any part of it go. The thought of being forced to leave everything behind hurt him in unimaginable ways.

And he didn't even have the release of death.

"Not again," he muttered sourly, letting his hand drop to his knees. He was not getting caught up in thoughts of eternity today.

His phone buzzed, causing Simon's stomach to lurch in anticipation. His hand reached out faster than he thought possible, snagging the small device and nearly crushing it in his haste.

"Isabelle?" he couldn't help but ask as soon as his finger had hit the talk button.

There was a pause. "Uh, no, but I'd love to hear more about her."

Simon felt his shoulders slump as he recognized Eric's voice. He leaned against his chair, closing his eyes. "What is it, Eric?"

"You sound moody," Eric observed. There was a crash of a symbol that nearly deafened Simon, followed by a bout of laughter, and a muffled curse. "What the hell is wrong with you!" Eric shouted, and even though he was obviously covering the mouth piece, Simon had to hold the phone away. How he loved vampire hearing. "I'm on the phone, you idiot!"

"Hey, tell that jackass to get over here," Simon heard Matt shout.

"Matt says-,"

"Yeah, I heard," Simon snapped, gripping the edge of the table. "Is that why you called me?"

"Hey, hey," Eric said. "Whatcha talkin' like that for? I was just filled with concern for my dear friend. Is that not allowed these days?"

Simon didn't answer, idly tracing a pattern on the table with his pinkie.

"Seriously, though," Eric said after waiting for an answer for half a minute. "What's going on with you, man? You haven't shown up for school since Monday, and you've missed two band practices. You never miss band practices, and you especially never leave your brothers hanging with no phone call."

Simon felt a sharp pang of guilt as he thought back to all the text messages his fellow band members had sent that he had deleted with barely a glance at them. He realized he hadn't seen the guys in forever. _Forever_. He had been so caught up with Valentine, and demons, and the Shadow world that he had forgotten about his old world. A world he had loved just as much - wait, hold that thought, a world he had loved _more_ than this one. He missed the days he had spent lounging in Eric's basement, fooling around, arguing over the hottest celebrities, and girls at school. It had been so normal, and safe without crazed killers, and complicating women, and vampires.

"I know," he heard himself saying. "I just- things have been kind of crazy in my life right now."

He hadn't gone to school from Monday to Wednesday because he had been too busy wallowing in a deep pool of self-pity and loneliness. He had come very close to eating icecream out of the bucket, and watching _Titanic_. He hadn't gone to school that morning, because he was too busy wallowing in a deep pool of confusion and Isabelle.

"Crazy," Eric repeated.

Simon heard him get up and close a door behind him. Hopefully he had just entered the storage room, or else Simon was talking to him while he was in the bathroom. He did _not_ want to hear that.

"Crazy how? Wait, does this have anything to do with Clary?" he asked with exasperation. "Dude, I'm telling you, you gotta move on. You could have some seriously hot chicks if you let yourself." Eric paused for a few beats. "Hey, whatever happened to Clary anyway. I haven't seen her around either. Is everything okay?"

Simon had almost forgotten what a good friend Eric really was. Yeah, he could act like a total jerk, but in the end he was always there for you. And he did genuinely care, even if he was incapable of expressing it.

"She -um-." Simon hadn't even thought up an excuse for why Clary wasn't at school. What was she telling people? "She transferred to some private school." He was surprised at how easily the lie came.

"Private school." Eric snorted. "No kidding. So, what, she stop hanging out with you or something?"

The question hit Simon harder than he would have thought. That's exactly what had happened when she had started taking Shadowhunter lessons. She just didn't have time for him anymore, and yeah, he missed her. She was his best friend. Some part of him was still jealous about Jace's presence in her life. How was it that a boy she had hardly even met had dragged her away from Simon, the one who had known her and loved her since she was a little girl? What right did Jace have?

He ran his fingers through his untidy hair, holding back a resigned sigh. These thoughts didn't do anything for him. Jace was a part of Clary's life now, and judging by the way he looked at her, he wasn't leaving any time soon.

"It's not just Clary," Simon heard himself say in a slightly overwhelmed voice. "It's a lot of things."

Eric was quiet for a minute, save for the scuffing of a shoe against the floor beneath him. Once again, Simon sincerely hoped it was _not_ the bathroom floor.

"Who's Isabelle?" Eric asked suddenly.

Simon blinked in surprise. "A girl I know," he replied lamely.

"Where'd you meet her?" Eric paused, and Simon could practically see him wiggling his eyebrows. "She hot?"

Simon felt a surprising wave of anger wash through him at the last question. He sucked in a deep breath to calm himself, relaxing his hand from the death grip it had on the table. "She's just a girl I know," he repeated in a mutter. "Why do you care?"

"'Cause you're my buddy, and if my buddy has a chance to hook up with a hot babe, I'm there to coach him through it."

Simon rolled his eyes. "Eric, only the stupidest man on this planet would listen to your advice on picking up women. And they would fail. Miserably."

"Hey, that is _not_-,"

But Simon didn't hear what is wasn't, because at that moment he heard a rap against the front door. He sighed, getting out of the chair. He was surprised by the stiffness in his joints as he walked to the front room. How long had he been sitting there?

The front room looked ghostly in the pale. The pictures on the mantle piece were drained of colour, leaving the grinning faces in them looking like corpses. He shivered, turning his back to them, and gently pushing aside a curtain to peer at the front door.

"Maia," he said aloud, interrupting the rant he had thrown Eric into. He was surprised by the amount of happiness her presence brought him. He had missed her.

"Wait, who's Maia?" Eric asked. "Who are all these girls?"

"I have to go," said Simon, quickly. "I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"But-!"

Simon hung up on him, jogging to the front door and pulling it open. He felt a big, goofy grin plastered across his face as he saw the werewolf girl. She looked up at him with just as big a smile on her face, her pretty, dark eyes sparkling.

"Well, well," she said, placing her hands on her curvy hips. "Look who survived without me."

"Barely," Simon allowed, stepping back so she could come in. She sprung across the door, her braids bouncing on her shoulders. "When did you guys get back? I thought you were going to be gone a few more weeks at least."

She walked into the front room, her hands tapping against pockets in a steady rhythm. Simon felt himself freeze as he watched her eyes slowly look around the place. He couldn't help but conjure the image of Isabelle standing in that exact spot, doing the exact same thing. His stomach seemed to drop a few inches, but why, he wasn't sure. This wasn't Isabelle. Isabelle and Maia were as different as a walrus and a pigeon. _Not _that he was saying either one looked like either.

"We just got back last night," Maia answered his question, turning to look at him. She grinned. "You gonna close the door, or are you planning to freeze me to death. Not all of us are unaffected by the cold, vampire."

"Right," Simon muttered, swinging the door closed with more force than he intended, causing the walls to shake.

Maia laughed, rolling her eyes. "No need to show off, muscle man."

The corner of Simon's mouth quirked into a grin.

Maia walked over to the couch, and collapsed into its cushions, kicking her feet up as if she had lived there her whole life. Her eyes never left Simon as he took a seat on one of the armchairs by the front window.

"It's really good to see you, Maia," he said, after settling himself. And it was. He was surprised by the amount of pleasure her being there brought. He had hardly seen anyone since his return from Alicante, except for Izzy. And her visit hadn't done anything to bring down his stress levels. But Maia definitely wasn't Isabelle.

She grinned, her eyes glinting. "Don't be getting all mushy on me, Vampire, or I'm heading back out that door." But he could tell from her smile that his words had made her happy.

"I'll try to contain myself," Simon retorted sarcastically, absently picking at a string on one of the cushions. His eyes flicked back to hers. "So, I guess Luke found a decent replacement, since you're back."

She shrugged. "Yeah, some Russian wolf. He seemed decent. I hung out with one of his pack members a lot, Joseph." She grinned to herself, smoothing out a wrinkle in her jeans.

A rush of jealously poured through Simon, causing him to yank the string right out of the cushion. He didn't like Joseph.

"So, everything went smoothly?" Simon asked, trying hard to control his voice.

She glanced at him, her brow wrinkling in confusion, and he knew he hadn't done a very good job. He thought he saw a sparkle of pleasure light her eyes before it faded into an expression of worry.

"What is it?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat. "Maia?"

She took a large breath, clasping her hands together. "Not everything went so smoothly."

"What do-,"

"The Gard was infiltrated," Maia spoke over him as if he hadn't even opened his mouth. She looked away, her braids swishing. "No one knows how it could have happened. The Shadowhunters were on such high alert. And I mean _high_ alert. You couldn't chew a stick of gum without raising suspicion." She fell quiet, a shadow of worry highlighting her face.

"What do you mean by infiltrated?" A bad feeling was growing in the pit of the vampire's stomach. It was the same bad feeling he had experienced upon waking up in the bottom of Valentine's boat.

"It had to be someone in the Gard," Maia said, her dark eyes wide as she stared into the distance. "No one else could have done it."

"Done what!" Simon asked, his voice growing in panic.

Maia seemed to shake herself. Her eyes focused back on him, and it seemed like all the blood had drained from her face. "Someone murdered a Shadowhunter guard. They used his blood to write a message on one of the Gard's walls. 'Valentine's will shall be done'."

"Oh Go-," Simon choked, his face twisting in pain.

"Simon?" Maia looked slightly alarmed, half rising from her seat.

Simon waved for her to sit back down, swallowing down the rage that consumed him every time a sentence was stolen from him.

"I thought it was over," he growled when he had recovered.

"Me too." Maia's voice was very quiet as she looked down at her knees. "So many people already died. Shadowhunters, Downworlders. . . _We_ almost died, Simon. More than once." She suddenly seemed to realize what she was saying, and rearranged her face back into one of practised toughness.

Simon couldn't come up with a response. It was so true. He had seen complete strangers' lives ripped away from them, had seen children orphaned, had felt cold metal pass through his own skin and his lifeblood drain away, staining the ground below him - all in the name of one brilliant and psychotic man named Valentine. It should have ended when Raziel sent Valentine to Hell.

"Who?" he managed to ask.

Maia shrugged her shoulders. "A few names have floated around, along with just about a million rumours." She snorted, tossing a braid over her shoulder. "Some people are even going as far as to say that Valentine isn't dead. I mean they watched his corpse burn, and yet they still are willing to believe he's alive." She shook her head in disgust.

Simon already knew the other name that people would be whispering. In his mind he saw the face of dark haired boy sitting in the Penhallow's living room, smiling, laughing. Jonathan Morgenstern.

_Luckily, Jace made sure he'd never be able to do it again,_ Simon thought firmly. _The guy got stabbed in the heart. He's gone._

A sudden panicked thought broke through Simon's ponderings. He stood up, his hand darting into his pocket to retrieve his phone.

"Maia, does Isabelle know what happened?" Simon's voice came out so fast that it sounded like one long slur.

Maia frowned, taking a second to sort out the question before answering. "Not that I know of. Unless her parents have told her. They're the only ones Luke told, them and Jocelyn."

Simon didn't relax any. The Lightwoods always had ways of finding out what they weren't supposed to know. Magnus must have heard, and that meant Alec had heard, and that meant both Jace and Isabelle would know. He knew that Isabelle would instantly think of Sebastian, Jonathan, whatever. He knew she would do something rash, something very Isabelle.

That night he had spent with her in Alicante, she had _sworn_ she would murder Sebastian. She had looked up at him through the cocoon of his arms, crystal teardrops hanging from her eyelashes as her eyes lit with a savage, feral light, and she had told him that no matter what it took, she was going to put a knife right through the bastard's heart that had taken Max away from her forever.

"What I don't get-," Maia's voice interrupted his reeling train of thought, "- is what the message means. Which part of Valentine's will do they want to fulfill? The destroying all Downworlders part, or the destroying the Clave part."

She had a good point. Though Valentine had only really had one giant plan, there were two separate goals he wanted to accomplish. So, which had been more important to him? Destroying the Clave, or destroying the Downworlders? But things had changed since the battle in Alicante. The Clave was no longer solely made of Shadowhunters.

"Those two things are tangled now," he said, rubbing a finger over the keypad of his cell phone. He needed to call Isabelle. He needed to make sure that she was fine, and wasn't planning anything rash.

"I guess so," Maia answered.

Simon kept on forgetting that he was engaged in a conversation with Maia. His thoughts were almost solely resting on Isabelle now.

"I'm really sorry, Maia," Simon apologized, turning to the werewolf girl. "But I need some time to think. Maybe I should call Clary."

"No!" Maia sat up, shaking her head fiercely. "Luke made me _promise_ that I wouldn't tell any of you. You can't tell Clary. I could get thrown out of the pack for disobeying Luke."

Simon frowned, confused. "Why did you tell me then?"

Maia sighed loudly, looking exasperated. She stood up, and walked over to him, shaking her head the entire time. He looked down at her. She was a full head shorter than him, but she never seemed it. Something about her filled the room. She had presence. Maybe it was her eyes; they spoke of a world of experiences that Simon couldn't even begin to guess at.

"Maybe I shouldn't have," she answered his question. She smirked. "But I'm always doing stupid stuff around you."

Simon blinked, thinking he should probably take a step backwards, but he was frozen in place. "I haven't noticed," he said, slightly stiffly.

She crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows. A tension filled silence fell between them. Her eyes weren't leaving his. The moment was dragging out too long, but he couldn't find any words to end it. Was she waiting for him to do something? Was he waiting for her to do something? What did he want her to do?

Maia tore her eyes away, shattering the moment into a thousand tiny pieces. "I'm going to go now before I do something else stupid." Her eyes flicked back to his, and they held a lot of implications.

Simon swallowed, nodding his head.

He trailed behind her as she walked to the door. Was it just him or was she swaying her hips a lot more than normal?

_Why are you even noticing you creep?_

A cool breeze swept through the room as she opened the door, catching Simon's shirt, and bringing the smell of the river into his living room. Maia breathed in deeply on his doorstep, briefly closing her eyes.

"It's good to be home," she murmured, a smile gracing her full lips. She opened her eyes, letting them land on Simon. "I'll see you later, Vampire."

She started walked down his lane, but stopped, turning around. An evil grin had replaced the angelic smile. "If you tell anyone what I told you, I'll kill you."

He had to laugh. "You can try, Maia. But with these vampire reflexes, I'm deadlier than a ninja." Maia shook her head, walking away. He thought he caught her murmur something akin to, "Why is he such a nerd?"

He grinned down at his shoes, but as soon as he shut the door, his grin faded into an expression of true confusion. He had come _this_ close to kissing her. Maybe he had been too dumb to realize it when it was happening, but he had. He had wanted to kiss her, and he was pretty sure she had been waiting for him to.

"Ahh," he groaned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. His cat wandered up beside him, sitting down and staring at him with hostile eyes. She looked like she was ready to attack him if he made even the slightest movement, but since she was his only companion, he decided to ask it the question running through his mind. "Why is my life so damn confusing?"

Her only answer was a hiss.

**Okay, that's that. Please review with any opinions, or helpful suggestions, constructive criticism, you know, all those good things. I really appreciate it!**


	5. Chapter 5: Guilt

_This took a while again. Soooorrry! I've been busy with Christmas and whatnot. The snow up here is up to my waist! This is a good thing, seeing as today was a snow day :D Anyway, enough with my personal life. Enjoy!_

_**Chapter 5: Guilt**_

_**Isabelle hesitated outside of the door, her hand centimetres away from the wood. She had not come here since - since…**_

_**Her hand tightened into a fist as she fought to control her emotions. She could feel the tears building up, but she couldn't let them fall. Now was the time for strength, and she couldn't let herself be controlled by her emotions. She was a Shadowhunter, and as such she should be able to rise above her petty, human feelings. Isn't that what their training was for? To become the cold, merciless killers they were reputed for. **_

_**Maybe it would be best if she simply left. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all…**_

_**But Isabelle could not contain the longing, the need**_**, that rose within her as she stared at the door. She had not slept all night, her mind twisting and turning down countless paths, but always ending with the same face, the face that haunted her dreams if she dared to close her eyes. **

**Yes, Jonathan would always be there, lurking just beyond sight, his empty eyes burning holes into her, the silkiness of his laugh mocking her. **

**She couldn't help but glance over her shoulder as she thought this, goose bumps raising all along her arms. But the corridor was completely empty. No phantom waited for her, no ghosts leered at her among the shadowed alcoves. **

**But the feeling did not disappear. He would always haunt her until the day they lit his empty husk on fire, and watch him burn until he was nothing more than a charred heap of ash. **

"**You won't get away," she whispered to the shadows, her voice shaking with passion. "Not this time."**

**She imagined she could see him grinning at her, a soft trickle of laughter escaping his lips. **

**She shuddered, hesitating no longer, and pushing the door open. She nearly ran over the threshold, whirling as soon as she got in, and slamming the door behind her. She leaned against wood, her fingers smoothing over the grains she had not dared to touch a few moments before. **

**Slowly, she turned. The room opened up before her, just as she remembered it. The floor was covered in mismatched socks and random mundane comic books, the bookshelf was overflowing, little toy figures were still set up on his desk suspended in the middle of a ferocious battle, and the bed covers were nearly as rumpled as hers. She swallowed, her breath shaky as she let herself be submerged in the world of her little brother. **

**It took her a few moments to be able to move, but when she did, she found she was eager. She quickly crossed the room, disturbing the thin layer of dust covering the hard floor, and knelt before Max's desk, and smiled as her finger hovered above one of the soldiers' heads. She wondered what Max had been thinking when he set the soldiers up, what battle they had been fighting, and what they had been fighting for. He had always been so absorbed in his comic books, in the imaginary worlds books took you to. It was so unlike her. She couldn't read a book for five minutes before throwing it down and going to do something training. **

**Maybe that was why Max had never really felt he could open up to her. That wasn't to say they hadn't shared a bond, they had. The bond between brother and sister was always strong, and she had loved Max so much. But he had never come to talk to her, it had always been Jace he had run to. And now, looking back, she was afraid that the few times Max had come to her, she had sent him away. **

**A tear trailed down her cheek, and she quickly withdrew her hand. She had always been too busy for him. She had always had training, or a job, or a date. How could she have ever chosen those idiotic boys she had dated over her little brother? How could she have been so cruel to him?**

"**I'm so sorry," she whispered towards the toy soldier as if he could hear. **

**She tore her eyes away and let them land on Max's bed. Maryse had constantly been fighting with him to clean his room and make his bed, but he never did. He was too stubborn. At least they shared that. **

**She found herself relishing the small amount of insight in Max's world his room provided. It was like a shrine to him, encompassing everything he loved, everything he deemed important. **

**Here, the presence of Jonathan had lifted from her shoulders. Strange, she would have thought it would be intensified. But no, Max's presence acted as a shield, the astounding amount of love and compassion his tiny body had held protecting her from everything wrong and evil in the world. **

**Isabelle slowly dragged her self to his bed. She didn't want to touch anything, to disturb anything, but an overwhelming urge to lay down overcame her, and she sank into the soft covers, breathing in their scent. **

**She remembered once, when Max had approached her in her room as she got ready to go to Pandemonium. He had stared at her for a few minutes, a small figure in the background of her mirror. **

"**What do you want, Max?" she had asked waspishly. She had been in a hurry. She hadn't had time for him. **

"**Can I ask you something?" His eyes were large under his glasses, but not from fear. They were just always so big, like he was trying to see the entire world. **

"**Max, I don't have time for this." She grabbed her eyelash curler, and began the careful process, leaning closer into the mirror until her face was the only thing in it.**

"**It'll only take a second. Please."**

"**Fine," she snapped, moving on to her left eye. "What?"**

"**If the institute caught on fire-,"**

**She had snorted at this. The institute was mainly made of stone, and any wooden supports were covered so that such a thing could never happen. It had been built with this in mind, and had endured none too few fires over the years. **

"**-and we had to leave," Max continued, oblivious to her disdain, "what would you take with you?"**

**She had smiled in the mirror, inspecting her eyelashes, before unscrewing her mascara. "That's easy. I'd take my mascara and some good lip gloss." She turned to face him. He was looking at her with a strange expression. "No girl can survive in this world without mascara and lip gloss."**

**Now, looking back, she understood that the expression he had been wearing was disdain. Disdain, at how shallow his older sister was. **

**She wanted to relive that moment, to tell him the truth. If the institute ever burned to the ground, she would take her family. She could care less about her stupid cosmetics. All she needed was her family and she would be happy. And she wished that she, in turn, had asked him what he would take. What did Max consider most valuable?**

**She gazed around the room, letting her eyes rest on different objects. Every one of them was coated in a thin layer of dust. No one had been in here since Max's death. Both her mother and her father couldn't handle it yet.**

**It suddenly occurred to her that this room was no shrine to her little brother. It was a tomb. A place to hold the love that Max would never feel. A place to keep the ghost of Max entombed. Death. That is what this room held: Death.**

**Her shoulders suddenly shook in sobs she couldn't contain. She buried her face in the covers, tears soaking in to the cold material. She did not know how long she lay there, sobs wracking her body. It felt like the night in Alicante all over again, the crippling pain around her heart, and the guilt battering her body until she wished she could just curl up and die herself. **

**Faintly, she wished Simon were there. She wished he could once again whisper soothing words in her ear, and push her hair behind her shoulder, telling her that it was not her fault. But she dispelled the notion quickly, sensing that this was not a moment to share with anyone else. This was between her and Max, and she would ride through it until the end. Because that's what Isabelle Lightwood did. She did not let any storm batter her down, she dealt with it, and when it ended she would come out stronger than before. **

**When the fit finally passed, and she lay motionless on the bed. Her head was pounding and her nose running. Gross. She sat up, looking around the room once more before stepping off of the bed and slowly making her way across the room. She opened the door, taking one last look over her shoulder before walking closing it once more. **

**She paused down the hall, ducking into the bathroom, and looking into the mirror. She looked like raccoon. A disgusting, snivelling raccoon. Her mascara was smudged all over her face, and her hair stuck up around her head like a halo. She splashed cold water on her face, blew her nose into a tissue, and hastily ran a brush through her tangled hair. When she looked back into the mirror, cool, collected, beautiful Isabelle stared back at her once more. **

**But something had changed. Her shoulders no longer sagged under some invisible weight. At some point during her bawl festival, she had come to the conclusion that Max would not want her to live this way. Her sweet, caring, beautiful brother would have hated that she was living with the weight of his death on his shoulders. She now knew, without a doubt, that Max's death was one person's fault only, and that person was Jonathan Morgenstern. **

**Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She took it out, and felt her sudden collection crumble under an entirely new weight. Simon's name flashed up at her. Her stomach did that stupid little jump it did every time his name was mentioned. **

"**Pull yourself together," she muttered to herself, opening the text. **

**We need to talk. **

**That was it. No more. No less. **

**Her stomach clenched at the thought of facing him again. She remembered their brief, passionate kiss once again - as if she hadn't relived it enough all ready - and she shivered. She also remembered the look in Maia's eyes as she had informed them she was visiting the vampire. She envisioned herself punching the were-girl in the face, before being assailed with guilt at such a thought. **

**It wasn't the wolf's fault Simon was so charming with that little, geeky act of his. She huffed in sudden annoyance. Why couldn't she just ignore the vampire?**

_**Why did you let him get under your skin enough to do this to you?**_** She hunted demon's for the angel's sake. She should be able to resist some stupid mundane boy with all his weird antics. He wasn't the kind of boy she would usually take two glances towards, but somehow he had charmed her into making a fool of herself. **

**Isabelle shook herself, tucking her phone back in her pocket. Well, she wouldn't let him make a fool of her any longer. If he wanted to talk, that was fine, but she would be in total control. Just the way she liked it. **

**She smiled into the mirror once, before setting out to find her parents. Church was curled up in a niche beside a vase just down the hall. She paused, scratching him behind the ears. He blinked open his startling eyes, purring loudly. **

"**Where are mom and dad, Church?" she asked, scratching him again for good measure. **

**The cat stood, stretching his long body, before lightly jumping to the ground, and strutting onward, tail high in the air. He glanced over his shoulder as if telling her to get a move on, and she hurried to catch up. **

**Church stopped just outside of the music room, licking an elegant paw and looking extremely pleased with himself. **

**Isabelle opened the door to be greeted with the sounds of the piano echoing off the vaulted ceiling until it filled the room. She glared at the cat now lying with his belly facing upward, expecting a scratch. **

"**I said Mom and Dad. Not Jace," she snapped in annoyance. "Stupid animal."**

**Church glared at her reproachfully, and she knew she would pay for that comment later. **

"**Do not," Jace said, poking his head from around the piano, "insult Church in front of me, or I will have to challenge you to a duel to defend his honour."**

**Isabelle chose to say nothing, and walked into the room, picking her way through the various instruments and coming to sit beside Jace on the bench. She glanced over the piece he had been playing, the various squiggles on the paper beyond her. She had once shown an interest in playing the piano, but she did not have the patience, and quit after one lesson.**

"**Do you know where Mom and Dad are?" she asked Jace, turning to face him instead. **

**A strange look passed briefly over his features. She didn't like it. Not at all.**

"**Yes. They went out hunting." He was watching her face closely as he told her this as if looking for something.**

"**What?" Isabelle's eyebrows rose in shock. "Without us? Why?"**

"**They said they didn't need us to get involved." Jace's eyes flared with annoyance, the gold catching fire. "Somehow it doesn't make sense to me. They've been acting strange. Have you noticed?"**

**Isabelle felt a drop of dread slide into her stomach. This wasn't good. Clary had told her after informing her of what had happened at the Gard that they could**_** not**_** under any circumstances tell Jace. **

"**He'll just do something heroic and get himself killed," Clary said, rolling her eyes. **

**Isabelle had agreed easily. Usually, Isabelle had no argument with Jace taking action, but not this time. She couldn't stand another one of her family members getting hurt, not by Jonathan. But she had been wary. Jace was extremely perceptive and it seemed even Clary couldn't distract him from the tension that had hovered around her parents ever since Luke's visit.**

"**Not really." She shrugged, flicking her hair behind her shoulder. "They've seemed tense, but that's it."**

"**Clary's been acting strange, too," Jace informed her with narrowed eyes. "She's keeping something from me."**

**Isabelle smiled, easily hiding her unease. "And why would she do that, Jace. You're not scared there's another boy to compete with, are you?"**

**He frowned at her non-chalant attitude. "She's a dreadful liar you know."**

"**That's true," Isabelle said with a laugh. Clary wasn't the best liar, but she was, and she knew exactly how to tip toe around Jace. She'd been doing it for years. "I have no idea what she and Mom and Dad would be hiding, though. Maybe they're planning a surprise birthday party for you." She made her voice be slightly mocking, smiling charmingly. **

"**What were you two talking about the other day," Jace asked sharply, no hint of amusement in his eyes. "The day Luke arrived."**

**Isabelle pretended to think back, her unease growing. Damn Clary for being such a pathetic liar. "Nothing really. She just thought I looked upset."**

**Jace didn't look satisfied. **

**Isabelly pursed her lips, and crossed her arms. "I'm sorry, Jace, are you **_**accusing**_** me of something. What exactly do you think I'm hiding?"**

**Jace frowned, two lines appearing between his eyebrows. "I've known you for years, Izzy."**

**She smiled blandly. "Well, thank you for making me aware of that fact. I didn't know." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. **

**He sighed, turning back towards his music. His fingers hovered above the keys as he scanned the music. **

"**Well, if the interrogation is done," Isabelle said coolly, inspecting a fingernail, "I'll be going now."**

**She stood, smoothing her jeans and walking out the door, relieved at leaving Jace behind. **

"**You wouldn't be visiting a certain vampire, would you?" Jace's voice rang out the door. **

**She turned around in anger, but he had already disappeared behind the piano, leaving a soft trickle of laughter floating through the air. **


	6. Chapter 6: Whispers

**Okay, well, it's been a while, but I've gotten two new reviews lately, and I felt guilty. So, this is not a great chapter, certainly a short chapter, but just be thankful I got one up here. I almost quit. **

**Just as a side note, now that City of Fallen Angels is out, I realize that Cassandra Clare and I have shared some similar ideas, not entirely the same, but similar. So, just to tell you, the Mark of Cain will come into effect, and it will act differently than Cassandra's. Do not get mad. Secondly, any similarities are completely coincidental, I swear. **

Chapter 6: Whispers

"I'm telling you, it was a B flat!" Eric snapped, jabbing the paper in front of him with his finger.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Matt set his soggy cafeteria quesadillas on the table, a stray piece of tomato flying over the edge and in front of Simon. "You're a drummer, not a guitarist."

"That doesn't mean I don't know how to play one." Eric shook the piece of paper in front of Matt's reddening face, making an annoying crinkling sound. "I wrote the lyrics, I get a say on how the damn song goes!"

"You call these lyrics?" Matt snorted, swatting the paper away. "You just found the longest words you could and wrote them down in a random sequence!"

Simon watched his two friends arguing, wishing that he had followed his instinct and stayed home. The incessant babbling of the students of St. Xavier's grated against his eardrums, making his head pound. The fluorescent lights seemed to hurt his eyes, and every single scent in the school seemed to clog his nostrils.

He sighed, flicking the piece of tomato in front of him with a slim finger. It flew far across the cafeteria, landing in some ninth grader's hair. She shrieked, flailing her hands about as her friend wrestled with the morsel of food. Simon wondered how he could have ever thought that high school held some importance in his life. It seemed like every person he passed was caught up in some immature drama. How could they be so ignorant? How could they miss everything that went on around them? Was he once just as blind as the rest of them?

"Simon?" Matt asked, snapping his fingers in front of Simon's glazed eyes.

"What?" Simon asked without inflection.

"You have to agree with me here," Matt said, apparently unaware of his friend's sombre mood. "You're the tie breaker."

Simon blinked, looking between his two friends. Matt's blue eyes looked electric as he stared him down, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if he wished to break it in half.

"I don't know." Simon pushed his chair back, wishing he could flip his hair out of his eyes. But that would reveal the Mark of Cain which would raise a few questions that he couldn't answer, and everything would go downhill from there. Even the simplest of things had been taken away from him. "I'm going to go to class."

"We still have fifteen minutes," Eric's voice was incredulous as he stared at the clock. "And we have physics."

"Ya." Simon picked up his untouched plate of salad. "I should probably get caught up."

"Since when have you cared about physics?" Eric frowned at him, leaning as far back as his chair allowed.

"My mom will kill me if I fail. See you guys later."

"Hey!" Matt protested, half standing. "What about the song? Simon, we need to get this finished!"

Simon waved his hand over his shoulder to show he didn't care and tossed the salad in the garbage. The Styrofoam squealed against the plastic in a way that made him want to cover his ears.

He walked down the hallways, his hands shoved in his pockets. The soles of his shoes barely made a whisper on the linoleum tiles. The halls which had once seemed the centre of his life now seemed so distant from him, as if he were a ghost looking on a past life.

"Hey! Simon!"

Simon suppressed a sigh at Eric's loud voice echoing off of the lockers. He slowed down, letting his friend catch up with him. Eric jogged up beside him, clutching his stomach as he puffed for air. He grabbed Simon's shoulder to stop him, and took a moment to let the excess blood drain from his face.

"I-," he gasped, "-really need –– to get–– in shape."

"Are you okay?" Simon asked, amused despite his sour mood. "Should I get some oxygen for you or can you hang in there?"

Eric glared at him, his breathing returning to normal. "Shut up. I'm joining the football team next year."

Simon quirked an eyebrow and began to walk again. "Don't count on that. I've seen you throw a football … you nearly killed that squirrel."

"Awe, shut up, that was a fluke." Eric dismissed Simon's scepticism with a lazy wave of a hand.

A moment of silence fell between them. Simon could feel his friend's eyes flicker to his face now and then, hear the annoying click of his teeth as he debated whether or not to speak.

"Just spit it out, Eric." Simon sidestepped a couple who were swallowing each other's tongues, trying to ignore the disturbing sounds they were making.

Eric began to drum his fingers against his legs, a nervous habit. "I've gotta ask, man. What's going on with you? Seriously, no bull this time, just give me a straight out answer."

Simon remained silent, looking at his feet.

Eric sighed, the drumming intensifying. "Listen, you're not acting like yourself. You've got the same look on your face you did when you told me about Clary and that Jake guy-,"

"Jace," Simon corrected absentmindedly.

"Whatever, the point is, you just need to move on man." Eric obviously knew he was treading on what had formally been dangerous ground, because he was practically beating his legs now. "I know that Clary is, like, your first _love-_," his voice was bordering on sarcasm, something Simon knew he couldn't help; Eric was more of a friend with benefits than a boyfriend kind of guy, "-but she's not good for you."

"It isn't Clary, Eric," Simon said wearily. "I don't see her like that anymore. We're just friends."

There was a stunned pause as Eric processed this information. Simon didn't blame him for his shock, he had been infatuated with Clary since he had met Eric.

They turned the corner leading to the hall with Simon's locker. Simon looked up and was amazed to find a tall, slim, and extremely familiar figure leaning against it. He stopped, and Eric stopped beside him, apparently also completely caught off guard. His mouth dropped open.

"Isabelle?" Simon asked incredulously. A nervous energy took over his body as he remembered the text he had sent her. He hadn't expected a reply.

She turned her head, a black curtain of hair rippling over her shoulder. She didn't say hello, or smile in greeting, she simply shrugged away from the locker and began to walk towards him, her coat revealing the tight fitting dress she was wearing.

Eric seemed to have lost his breath again, his mouth working like a fish as he turned and stared in amazement at his friend. "_That's _Isabelle?"

Simon looked over his friend's face, and the drool pooling in his gaping mouth. He sincerely hoped he had not looked like that when he had first met Isabelle.

"You said you wanted to talk." Isabelle's voice focused Simon's attention back on her. She stared up at him with impassive eyes, her face the perfect mask of control.

"I didn't know if you'd answer," Simon said truthfully. He wasn't surprised by her closed expression. That was how Isabelle was, one minute you had a grasp on her and the next she was gone like smoke on the wind.

"Simon," Eric broke in, hitting Simon on the shoulder playfully. "I think introductions are needed." He smiled what he must of thought was a charming smile and held out his hand to Isabelle. "I'm Eric."

Isabelle looked at him for the first time, her eyebrows raising as a brief expression of amusement crossed her features. She made no move to grip his hand, and after a minute Eric's smile faltered and his hand dropped to his side.

"Eric," Simon said, raising his eyebrows. "Maybe you should go to physics."

Simon was impressed by how well Eric had taken Isabelle's rejection. He managed to walk away with his head held up, at least a shadow of his pride still intact.

Simon waited until his friend had disappeared around a corner before turning to Isabelle. His stomach was doing something strange and it was making him feel nauseous.

"I'm glad you -,"

"Simon," Isabelle sighed, taking out her phone and flipping it open. Her eyes flew across the screen. "Can we please make this fast? I'm meeting someone."

Meeting someone? Who was she meeting? Simon was suddenly filled with a mixture of anger and jealousy that made his cold skin momentarily feel like it was on fire. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. She was just so frustrating! Why did he care? Why did he do this to himself.

_Why shouldn't she meet someone_, that stupid annoying voice in the back of his mine asked. _You met with Maia._

When Simon opened his eyes Isabelle was staring at him, her forehead creased ever so slightly.

"I guess so," Simon answered, his voice stiff. "I was just wondering if-," He paused, wondering how he should word this. If Isabelle hadn't heard what Maia had told him than he didn't want to be the one to break the news. "Have you seen Luke yet? He and Maia got back yesterday."

Isabelle's eyes flashed for just a moment, so fast Simon wondered if he had imagined it. She lifted her chin slightly. "Maia stopped by the Institute with Luke before she went to see you. Is this why you wanted to see me? To talk about werewolves? I'm sorry Simon, but-,"

"Izzy!" Simon's voice cut through the air like a whip. He hadn't meant to yell, but something inside him snapped at her show of indifference. All he cared about was her, and her feelings, but she didn't give a damn about him and he was sick of being toyed with.

Her eyes widened in shock, her perfectly painted lips freezing in the middle of saying what was supposed to come next.

"All I wanted to know was if Luke told you anything about what happened in Idris."

Isabelle closed her mouth, her eyes widening even more. She looked over her shoulder, down the hall before answering. "What exactly do you mean?"

Her voice was in perfect control, not even a tremble in it, but Simon could tell from her reaction that she had heard. He felt a twist of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. His first instinct was to reach out to touch her arm, but he knew she would only pull away.

"Isabelle," he murmured quietly. "I know what you think, but-,"

"_Simon_," Isabelle hissed furiously, eyes flashing. "_Not here!_" Simon looked around. Class had already started, and the halls around them were deserted. "No one's around, Izzy. I would have heard them." He pointed to his ear, smiling slightly. "I have spidy senses now, remember?"

She stared at him. "Spidy-senses?"

_Right_, _you're speaking to a shadow hunter here, not a mundane geek_. "Never mind. If you don't want to talk here, then fine, but we do need to talk."

Isabelle hesitated, her eyes narrowing. She seemed to be debating something with herself. "Fine," she agreed finally. "Let's go get lunch."


	7. Chapter 7: Watching

**These chapters just keep on getting worse and worse, but oh well, I'm determined to finish this thing even if it takes the rest of my life! O_O**

**Chapter 7: Watching**

"Couldn't you have picked a place that didn't smell like cat pee?" Simon asked, wrinkling his nose.

The fluorescent lights above them buzzed and sputtered annoyingly, illuminating a tiny restaurant of smalls booths, questionable stains, and chequered linoleum. Simon gazed around in distaste. They were all alone, unless the man who appeared to be wearing a woman's nightgown passed out in his own soup could be counted. Simon was pretty sure he couldn't be.

Isabelle gave him a deeply annoyed look. "I could have picked some place public, where anyone could be listening."

"Izzy-," Simon raised his eyebrows at her. "Don't you think you're being a little paranoid?"

She sighed, closing her eyes. Her hands twitched as if she longed to reach across the table and throttle him before relaxing, palms down on the table. When her eyes opened they were as hard as rocks. "No, Simon, I think I am being reasonably paranoid. You mentioned Luke and Idris. What exactly did you mean?"

Simon sighed, itching to shake his hair from his eyes. "I think you know." When she didn't respond he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "About what happened at the Gard."

Isabelle leaned back from her, flicking her hair over her shoulder. She studied Simon with guarded eyes, her fingers playing with her ruby necklace. "How do you know what happened?"

Simon leaned back as well, glancing at the man in the night gown. It had floral print. "I could ask you the same thing."

Isabelle's dark eyes rolled towards the ceiling. "Clary overheard Luke's conversation with my parents."

Simon's stomach clenched. What would Clary think of this? Would she jump to Jonathan's name as well? He briefly wondered what Clary would do if she thought her brother was alive. She didn't have the same furious passion Isabelle did, but that didn't mean she was one to just sit around. He couldn't stand the thought of his oldest friend hurting herself. But surely Jace wouldn't let her…

"So, Jace knows?" he asked, turning his attention back towards Isabelle who was staring out the window. For the first time, he noticed the darker circles under her eyes, and the small flecks of smudged eyeliner under her eyes. Had she been crying? The thought almost physically hurt him.

"No." Isabelle's voice was adamant. Her fingers gripped the ruby tightly, her knuckles bleaching white. "Clary and I both agreed that he _can't _know. He would just get himself hurt doing something stupid."

Simon clenched his teeth. "And you're not planning anything, right?"

Isabelle's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Isabelle," Simon implored, his fingers digging into the table. He could feel the fibres of fake wood straining. "You don't know it's Sebastian. Tons of Valentine's supporters got away, it could be any one of them. And Maia-,"

Isabelle's eyes burned suddenly. She leaned forward, her dark curtain of hair swishing against the table top. "I _know_ it was him, Simon. I knew ever since they couldn't find his body that something wasn't right. Bodies don't just disappear like that. I don't care if you don't believe me, I don't care if you think I'm crazy." Her voice lowered to an intense hiss. "But I _know_ Sebastian's alive, and I will do _everything_ in my power to bid him bon voyage as he goes to Hell." Her body shook as she drew in heavy breaths. Simon could see that her fingers were shaking on the table top.

He looked over her intense, half crazed face, and felt something inside him break. He had hoped that some of the guilt from Max's death had left Isabelle, but now he could see it written all over her face. She would never be able to heal from the loss of her little brother until she knew the one who had caused it was gone forever.

He reached across the table to take one of her hands in his own. She twitched as if thinking of pulling back, but he tightened his grip. "Isabelle, I don't know who killed that Shadowhunter in Idris, but if it was Sebastian, you can't travel across the ocean to find him-,"

Isabelle smiled slightly, a sad, twisted smile. "I won't have to cross the ocean."

"What-?" Simon began, the bad feeling in his stomach growing every second.

"Sebastian will try to kill the Clave," Isabelle concluded, still smiling, "but you can't possibly think he won't pay us a visit first." She withdrew her hand, sitting back, her smile fading into a grim line. "He won't want to let Jace live, not after what Jace did to him."

Simon pauses, his mouth open. He hadn't thought of that, but now that Isabelle said it, it made perfect sense. Of course he would come to New York. Jonathan Morgenstern hadn't struck him as the kind to let grudges go.

He shook himself. "No, Isabelle. Jace killed Jonathan."

Isabelle's jaw tightened. Her eyes looked large and dark, more intense than Simon had seen them in a long time. He could tell that no matter what he said, Isabelle would not believe him. She was sure Jonathan hadn't been killed.

"Ever since Luke came back," Isabelle hesitated, pursing her lips. "Ever since Luke came home, my parents have been out hunting far more often. They won't let me or Jace go with them, and I always hear them whispering together. I don't care if you don't believe it's Jonathan, but _something_ is going on."

"And what are you planning to do about it?" he asked wearily.

She raised her chin, smiling a wicked smile. "I'm going to end it. Fighting's what I'm good at, Simon. If you were smart you wouldn't try to stop me." She slid from her chair, the hem of her dress sliding up her leg slightly. "Goodbye, vampire."

Simon gritted his teeth as she walked by him, her demon-stomping boots clicking against the cheesy tiles. "Izzy, _wait_."

The clicking stopped. He turned in his seat, but she had her back to him. Her hands were in two fists at her sides.

"I'm coming with you," Simon said, standing as well.

Isabelle did turn then, her mouth opening to stop him.

"If you were smart," Simon said coming to stand beside her with a grin, "you wouldn't stop me."

_Why is he here with you_?

Isabelle sat in Magnus's apartment, her fingernails digging into her leg. Though she couldn't see him, she could sense Simon's presence by her on Magnus's leather couch. It was as if they were somehow linked.

She had told herself she would stay in control. She had told herself that she wouldn't let some stupid vampire get the better of her. And now he was sitting beside her, determined not to leave her alone until this mystery was solved. She breathed deeply, clutching her ruby necklace.

"Isabelle, darling, do relax," Magnus drawled from his purple chair. His eyes were ringed with blue glitter today, and they sparkled in a way that made Isabelle feel sure he knew exactly what she was thinking. He picked a piece of cat hair off of his tight leather pants, letting it float to the ground. "You're putting me on edge."

Isabelle let her tense shoulders relax, and leaned against the back of the couch. The leather stuck to her bare skin.

Alec looked at her from the rim of his latte, his blue eyes questioning. She hadn't seen much of Alec in the past few days. He barely left Magnus's side. She was happy for her brother. The burden of his secret had nearly crushed her the past few years, but she had known it had been ten times worse for Alec. Though she had wished that Alec could come out, she had never pushed him to do so. The shadowhunter world was harsh, and if you weren't careful, it could ruin you. She was glad that Magnus had finally given Alec the courage to be himself.

"What's wrong, Izzy?" Alec asked, his head tilting slightly.

Isabelle lifted her chin, ready for a fight. "I don't know. That's what I want to find out. Mom and Dad have been keeping something from us, and I'm worried, Alec. Something's wrong." She wouldn't let them know her suspicions about Sebastian. Not yet.

Alec's eyes darted to Magnus quickly, before swivelling back. Magnus leaned back in his chair, as his cat jumped onto his lap, purring loudly. He scratched the cat behind the ears, never taking his eyes off Isabelle.

"And here I thought you had come simply for the pleasure of seeing me," Magnus said with a smile. "I'm heart-broken."

Simon leaned forward the leather creaking. "We thought you may have heard something, being the High Warlock and all."

"You Lightwoods are all the same," Magnus sighed, shooting a look at Alec. "You can't help but rub your nose where it doesn't belong."

Isabelle locked eyes with her brother. "Alec? Do you know something?"

Alec glared moodily at Isabelle, his forehead creasing. "I overheard a conversation Magnus had with another warlock a couple days ago."

Magnus snorted indelicately. "He had his ear pressed against the door, and a rune of hearing on the back of his hand."

Isabelle raised her eyebrows at her brother who simply shrugged. "I had a bad feeling too."

"Well, what was the warlock saying?" Simon asked impatiently.

Magnus frowned at Simon. "Robert and Maryse Lightwood also paid me a visit. They made it very clear that they did not want any of their children involved or any of their friends. 'This is Clave business', as they put it."

Isabelle felt a flare of anger, and fought to control it. Her parents had never been ones to treat her like a child. They had respected her, knowing that that was the only way to keep her strong and independent. So why were they suddenly fighting so hard to keep things from her and her siblings?

"And you agree with them?" she asked, carefully keeping control of her voice.

"Not necessarily." Magnus ran his finger around the rim of his cup. "I've seen what you can do, Isabelle. However, I'm not willing to betray your parent's trust. You see, this new alliance between Shadowhunters and Downworlders is giving everyone a headache." His cat eyes looked between the three Shadowhunters in the room. "We can't afford anything that will break the allegiance apart."

"You never seemed the political type to me," Simon said with a smirk.

"Looks can be deceiving." Magnus took a careful sip of his drink, his eyeliner sparkling more than ever.

Isabelle tapped her foot impatiently. "So, you're not going to tell us to get on the good side of my parents? That's lame."

"And responsible," Simon added.

"Yes, I'm feeling rather old,. However, seeing as Alexander decided to take things into his own hands, I see no problem in him telling you. It was bound to happen sometime." He brushed his cat from his lap, standing up. "And if anybody asks where you got the information, I was never here."

Isabelle smiled at the disappearing figure of Magnus, feeling a rush of affection. How had she not known him before Clary? He was simply fabulous.

"So?" she asked Alec as soon as the door closed. "What did you hear?"

Alec fidgeted slightly in his chair, looking uncomfortable. "I'm not sure that I should tell-," He paused at the look Isabelle gave him, scowling. "Well, I am eighteen Izzy! It's my responsibility-,"

"Alec," Isabelle said, pasting her sweetest smile onto her lips. "Shut up. We all know how old you are, now spit it out."

Alec's impressive scowl deepened as he looked back and forth from Isabelle to Simon. "Fine, but you can't tell anybody what I'm telling you. Like Magnus said, this is supposed to be Clave business." He took in a deep breath, closing his deep blue eyes. "All that the warlock said was that demonic activity in the city has been increasing at an alarming rate."

"But, shouldn't it be going down?" Simon asked. Isabelle looked over at him and saw that he was leaning forward in his seat, his brow furrowed in an adorable way. How she hated him.

"Now that Valentine's dead, shouldn't the be quite for a little while?" he continued, turning to look at her with large dark eyes.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "No, Simon. The demons could care less about Valentine and his cause. The only reason they joined forced with him was because he allowed them to cause as much death and destruction, everything they live for, as they wanted. I wouldn't expect the demonic activity to go down just because Valentine died."

"But up?" Alec asked, raising an eyebrow. "I can't see any reason for that either."

Isabelle looked down at her legs, thinking. It didn't make sense. Yes, demonic activity in the city had fluctuations. One minute there was so much she was covered in blood for a week at a time, and others there was so little she had nothing to do but spend her time finding a new boy to entertain her, but Alec made it sound like the activity was skyrocketing in no time. That was unusual. Demons were largely independent creatures, they didn't often band together unless there was a really good reason.

_Like attack Alicante_, she thought, remembering the horrors of that night, the night that Max died.

"Is that all?" Simon asked, sounding relieved.

Isabelle had to hold back a sigh. It didn't matter how long Simon had spent in the Shadowhunter world, he still didn't get it. Demons congregating was not something that you say 'Is that all?' to. It meant something big, and something dangerous.

"No," Alec sighed, "it's not."

"What?" Isabelle's head shot up, looking at her brother. "What else has happened."

Alec's jaw tightened. "Two warlocks have been found dead. Murdered. Their deaths were. . .gruesome." Alec's face looked slightly green, and Isabelle knew she did not want to ask how they had been found. "Another warlock went missing last night, Roark Rowentree."

"That name sounds familiar," Isabelle said slowly.

"Probably, he's one of the most powerful warlocks in the country," Alec said. "He's an old friend of Magnus's."

"Only warlock's have been found?" Simon asked, his face paler than usual. "No other Downworlders?"

"No." Alec shifted again, looking at his hands.

"What is it, Alec?" Isabelle asked. She knew her brother better than she knew herself sometimes; Alec was worried, very worried. He looked up, his dark blue eyes as deep and roiling as the ocean. "There have been rumours spreading around the Downworlders. Rumours about-," he paused, as if unsure of how to continue. Isabelle gripped the couch, her nails penetrating the leather. "-rumours about some dark power that's been slinking around the city." The blood was quickly draining from her brother's face, and she could feel the tension in Simon's body beside her. "Something they've never seen or felt before."

"A greater demon?" Simon asked, looking between the two siblings.

Alec shook his head, looking slightly ill. "No, not any demon I've ever heard of."

Isabelle looked down at the couch, feeling her blood turn to ice in her veins. She had the feeling of somebody watching her again, making a shiver race down her spine. She got off the couch and walked over to the window. Lights lit up the entire city, stretching onwards for miles, like a reflection of the night sky. And somewhere in that city Jonathan Morgenstern had his eyes on her.


	8. Chapter 8: Greetings

**Well, I've come to accept the fact that with every chapter the characters will get more OOC. It seems I can't help it, but I hope that doesn't stop you from enjoying the new chapter. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, but please review!**

**Chapter 8: Greetings**

Simon studied Isabelle's face carefully under the single light hanging from the entry way's ceiling of Magnus' building. In the ghostly light, her cheeks looked hollow, as if the skin was pulled too tightly over her cheekbones. Overwhelming concern flooded his chest, making his un-beating heart wrench in pain. He longed to reach out and brush a strand of raven hair from her cheek, but his hand remained stiff and frozen at his side, knowing she would only pull away from him.

_Always pulling away_, he thought bitterly.

"Izzy?" he asked, making sure his voice was soft.

She jerked as if waking from a dream, and turned her eyes on him. They looked like midnight pools in the darkness. She didn't look like herself. She looked…vulnerable. That scared Simon more than anything.

"Do you want me to go back to the Institute with you?" he asked. He was reluctant to leave her in her current state even though he knew she could take care of herself.

Something flashed in the back of Isabelle's eyes. Her mouth opened to say something, but then closed again. She looked down at her boots, twisting her foot against the cement. "No. I'm fine."

"Are you-?" Simon's next question was cut short by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He grimaced, fishing it out. The screen flashed with Maia's name, and he felt something inside him twist. "Just- hold on a sec."

He opened the phone and pressed it to his ear, turning away from Isabelle ever so slightly. "Hey. What's up?"

"I'm bored," Maia answered bluntly. "Think you could fix that for me?"

He saw Isabelle shift in his peripherals, and turned to find her walking out the door. "Izzy! Hold on!"

"Izzy?" Maia asked, her voice changing slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were with the Shadowhunters tonight."

"No, I-," Simon muffled a curse, feeling like kicking the brick wall. "Just - just hold on a sec." He put the phone in his pocket, and trotted briskly down the steps. "Isabelle. Isabelle! Wait up." He grabbed her arm, surprising himself when he managed to spin her around to face him. He would never get used to his vampire strength.

Her face registered shock which quickly turned to fury as she wrenched her arm from his grip. "I don't need a vampire to walk me home at night," she snarled, tossing her hair. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you don't need me, Isabelle!" Simon groaned in frustration. "You've made that crystal clear. I just thought you might want a friend. You don't always have to be alone."

Her face went as smooth and unreadable as cold marble. "I don't want you to come with me, Simon," she said, looking away. "Go have fun with the werewolf." She turned on her heel and continued her way down the road, her shoulders tense.

Simon stood, frozen in his anger and hurt. His nails were biting into his skin, and he could feel blood welling around them. He forced his hands to relax and take his phone from his pocket.

"Sorry, Maia," he said, knowing his voice was tense. "I could use some fun. Where should we meet?"

Pandemonium was full, despite it being a week night. The music pounded in Simon's ears as he entered the club, instantly assaulted by the sounds and smells of hundreds of bodied pressed together in a small space, moving to the swell of music. It took a moment for him to adjust, momentarily reeling from the assault on his senses.

He found Maia sitting in a booth, looking around the club with bright eyes. Her t-shirt was shorter than usual, revealing a strip of smooth, tanned skin. When she saw Simon, she flashed him a bright smile that he couldn't help but to respond to. He made his way through the crowd separating them and slipped in the booth next to her.

"Hey!" Maia greeted, having to shout a little to be heard over the pounding of the bass. "This place is boss!"

Simon grinned as she bounced slightly in time to the music. "I can't believe you've never been here. Clary and me always came."

Her eyes sparkled. "I never thought you were the dancing type."

"I could say the same for you," he responded, raising an eyebrow. "And I'm not. I suck, actually." Maia laughed her pretty laugh. Her cheeks looked slightly flushed. Simon leaned in closer. "Have you been drinking?"

She grinned slyly at him, suddenly producing a flask. It had the words 'Holy Water' in stylized lettering on the front. "A little."

Simon snorted, shaking his head.

Maia's face turned slightly more serious as she turned towards him. "You sounded upset on the phone. What's up?"

Simon's smile vanished. He looked down at the table, carving a pattern into it with his pinkie nail. For a second he debated whether or not he should tell her what he had heard, but the moment quickly passed. This was Maia he was talking to, one of his best friends. He could trust her.

He quickly repeated what Alec had told him, skipping over any minor details that involved Isabelle. Every time her thought of her, his gut twisted in a terrible way, and a stab of pain shot through him as he remembered her cold face.

"_I don't want you to come with me, Simon." _The words burned him like a brand.

When he had finished, Maia was quiet for a moment, her face pensive. She flicked a few stray braids over her shoulder. "I've heard the same rumours," she finally told him. "But these warlocks are news to the pack."

"You can't tell them," Simon said sharply, his hand shooting out to grip hers. "I'm not supposed to know, and I don't think it would do anyone any good if it got out I did."

Maia frowned at him. "But if it's important-,"

"No," he cut her off. He couldn't let her tell Luke, that would only get him, Alec and Izzy into trouble. _And then Izzy would never forgive me_. "Promise me you'll keep this to yourself, Maia."

She studied his face, her dark eyes serious. "Fine. My lips are sealed."

He collapsed against the back of the boot, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank you." He paused. "Sebastian's dead, Maia. Jace stabbed him in the heart." He turned his eyes on her, watching her face. "He said there was no possible way that he could have survived."

Maia's face was unreadable as the multi-coloured lights passed over it, gleaming against her cheekbones. "I don't know, Simon," she said finally, her voice more serious than he'd ever heard it. "All these things, Sebastian's body disappearing, the intrusion into the Gard, the rumours, the warlocks, it's just-," her voice lowered as she looked at the table. "I'm scared, Simon."

As soon as the words passed her lips, she lifted her chin, her eyes glinting as if daring him to make fun of her. He stared at her hard, strong face, feeling a deep kind of sadness fill him. She had to be so strong all the time, not even able to admit being scared without feeling ashamed. He wanted her to know she didn't always have to be the tough werewolf around him.

He reached out and gently took her hand, squeezing. "I'm scared too," he admitted, swallowing. _I'm scared for you, for Clary, for Isabelle. And I can't do anything to help._

They were both quiet for a minute, letting the beat of the music fade into the background as they grappled with their fear. Finally, Maia broke the silence.

"Hey," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "I said I wanted fun. You're just making me depressed." She stood up, still holding his hand. "Let's go see how terrible of a dancer you really are." She grinned, her eyes sparkling once more.

He allowed her to lead him away from the booths and down to the dance floor. She found her way through cracks and crevices in the throng of gyrating bodies until they were standing in the middle of it. Bodies pressed on all sides of Simon, brushing his skin with there own. He looked around him, observing the various tattoos and hairstyles. He had always felt out of place here.

A few of the people he saw had a shimmery quality in the air around them, and when he looked at them hard enough, their glamour faded to reveal their true nature. One girl had solid green eyes, with no irises, her teeth pointy and sharp when she smiled. The man she was dancing with had curly horns sprouting from the top of his head. Three faeries flirted with the bartender who was oblivious with their otherworldliness, while two kelpies were locked in a passionate kiss in the corner. He suddenly realized that he belong here. This was where downworlders and humans crossed thresholds. He couldn't believe he had been blind to it before. How could humans be so blind?

His thoughts were broken as he felt Maia's hands snake around his neck. He looked down at her in surprise, but she only grinned, swaying to the music. Her lips moved, but her words were drowned out. He leaned down, and her lips pressed against his ear, making him shiver.

"I love this song," she told him. She stumbled slightly as someone bumped into her, and he grabbed her hips to steady her. She laughed softly in his ear, and his whole spine tingled. He could feel the heat radiating from her, leaking into his own icy skin.

They began to sway together, and Simon pulled back to look into her face. She let her head fall back, and her braids swung in the air. He didn't know whether it was the heat, or the music, or the words Isabelle had said to him, but a sudden recklessness washed over Simon. He lifted Maia off the ground, bringing her body closer to him. He saw her look of shock only briefly before he pressed his lips against hers. There was only a moment of hesitation from her, before she responded. His thumbs traced the strip of bare skin her shirt revealed as her warm mouth moved against his.

He found himself comparing this kiss to the one he had shared with Isabelle only a few days ago. Suddenly all he could see was Isabelle's face as she threw her arms around his neck, all he could taste was Isabelle's lip gloss, and all he could smell was peppermint.

He broke away from Maia with a gasp, his hands leaving her hips as he hastily backed away, bumping into the guy behind him.

Maia stared at him, her lips still parted, glistening slightly. Her look of confusion and hurt was making Simon feel slightly ill.

"I'm-," he began, but Maia's hand cut him off. She closed her mouth, and put one hand on her hip, eyes narrowing.

"Listen, Simon." Her voice was sharp. "I like you. A lot. I have ever since that night on Valentine's boat."

"And I-,"

"Let me finish," Maia snapped, leaving no room for argument. "But I don't like getting jerked around - by anybody. So, if you're unsure about this, or you're thinking about some other girl, tell me now so I can stop making an idiot of myself. I really hate it." She was breathing deeply, her eyes blazing.

Simon didn't know what to say. He knew his mouth was open, and he was gawking like a fish, but he just couldn't find it in himself to close it. He opened and closed his hands, wondering how on earth he should respond to that.

"Isabelle," he finally managed, his voice strangled.

Maia's shoulders relaxed some. She sighed, nodding her head. "That's what I thought. I knew you were crazy about her. I just wanted to see if I could make you feel the same way about me."

"Maia, I like you," Simon said earnestly. "I do-,"

"You just love Isabelle," Maia said simply.

Simon sucked in a breath he didn't need. Hearing somebody say those words out loud, so bluntly, made his head spin. He had never allowed himself to think it, let alone say it, because he knew it would only bring more pain into his life. His feelings for Isabelle just weren't rational. He was a vampire, a Downworlder, and she was… She was Isabelle, strong, beautiful, gifted Shadow hunter. He had no right to feel this way about her, and she had all the right in the world to ignore him and live her life.

So, why did it hurt so much?

"It's okay." Maia's hand touched his, pulling his gaze back to hers. She gave him a small, tiny smile. Only someone who knew her as well as Simon would have been able to see the sadness in it. "I've been rejected before. But I'm tough, I'll get through it."

He nodded, swallowing. "I'm sorry, Maia."

"Me too." She shrugged her shoulders. "I should go. I'll see you around, vampire. Don't go too wild tonight, you have school tomorrow." She walked past him, heading towards the door before he had a chance to respond, leaving him alone in the middle of the dance floor.

After a few minutes, Simon also headed towards the door. The music was too loud, the clothing too gaudy, and the smell of blood was starting to become overwhelming.

The outside air smelled refreshingly of garbage. Rain drizzled from the midnight sky, filling the street's potholes with dirty water. He started walking down the street, feeling slightly lost. Why couldn't he have just enjoyed the kiss with Maia? Why did he always have to think of Isabelle? It was obvious she didn't feel the same way about him, no matter what she had said the night they had kissed at his place.

_You shouldn't care_, he told himself, closing his eyes. _She is a Shadow hunter, and your soul is damned. _

He stopped in the middle of the street, feeling numb. A future between him and Isabelle just wasn't possible. He would live forever, staying a sixteen year old forever, and she would grow up. Isabelle would continue to live her life, while he remained stuck in the same place. She would meet somebody, finally settle down, get married, maybe even have kids, little shadow hunter children that would call him Uncle Simon.

"Oh G-," he choked on the word, just as he always did, just as he always would. He had never realized his relationship with God was so important until it was snatched away from him.

A sudden bout of giggling brought him to his senses. He looked up from the pavement to see a pack of teenage girls coming towards him. They were obviously drunk or high, or both, and all their eyes were glued on him. He blinked water out of his eyes as one of the girls stopped in front of him. Her lip gloss was smudged, and mascara had begun to run down her cheeks.

"Hey cutie," she slurred at him, swaying in her heels. "You look like you need a distraction."

The words ripped through him like knife. He stared at this girl, this stranger, and felt his heart explode into tiny shards, embedding themselves in him.

_I need a distraction_, Isabelle had purred at him.

He walked past her, ignoring her catcalls after him. At one time he would have been pleased with the attention, making some witty remark back, and pretending to ignore Clary as she rolled her eyes. Because Clary would have been there, should have been there. But now everything had changed.

He hadn't been paying attention, and when he looked up, he found himself in an alley.

"You're an idiot," he said aloud, voice echoing off the stained dumpster ahead of him. _So the girl you love doesn't feel the same way. No need to get mugged because of it. _

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He froze, adrenaline instantly pumping through him, sharpening his senses to the extreme. He could hear breathing behind him, he could feel the presence of someone - no _something_ watching him.

Slowly, he pivoted, his shoe making an annoyingly loud sound against the wet pavement. He stared at the figure standing a few feet behind him, fear gripping him like cold iron manacles.

Simon couldn't even mutter a prayer as Jonathan Morgenstern greeted him with a cold smile.

**DUH DUH DUH! **

**I know it's not cheesy at all, and totally original :P Review please, it just makes me so durned happy! ****J**


	9. Chapter 9: Cornered

_**Well, here's the new chapter. Sorry about the wait!**_

_**Chapter 9: Cornered**_

_Something was wrong with Jonathan Morgenstern._

_Of course, there had always been something of with him, Simon conceded, but this was different. At first glance, Jonathan had looked just as he always had. He still maintained an undeniable kind of attractiveness. His blonde hair was sleek with rain, plastered against his forehead, and his mouth was held in the same expression of haughty disdain that Simon clearly remembered. But something had changed. Jonathan's skin had become so pale it looked almost translucent, and tinged with an unnatural grey colour. His cheekbones stood out starkly, as if his skin was pulled too tight, accentuating the skull beneath. And his eyes_. Yes, they were the same shade of black they had always been, but when Simon looked in them he felt a chill that seeped into his very bones and made him want to scream.

The air around Jonathan was filled with _wrongness_. There was no other way to explain it. It had Simon fighting the urge to double over and gag.

"You're dead." It was a stupid thing to say. Obviously, Jonathan Morgenstern was not dead.

Jonathan laughed, shaking his head so that silver rain drops flew from his hair. "Did you all really think that you could get rid of me _that _easily? Did they treat angel boy like a hero when he came back, did they give him pats on the back and tell him just how _great_ of a shadow hunter he was?" He snorted scornfully.

"Are you jealous?" Simon asked, his voice shaky. "I'm sure they'll arrange a party for you too if you ask nicely."

Jonathan's mouth twisted in what Simon supposed was a wry smile, but looked more like a grimace. He began to walk towards Simon, his hands shoved in the pockets of his coat. Simon hastily took a step backwards, unwilling to be near that _thing_. Jonathan stopped, raising his hands into a gesture of peace.

_He has both hands_. Simon knew Isabelle had cut off Sebastian's hand with her whip, he had heard the story from both her and Jace. _So, how is that even possible._ He forced himself to take a closer look at the hand he knew should be on the ground somewhere, and felt himself recoil even further. The veins, clearly visible beneath the skin, were as black as Jonathan's eyes. It was as if he was suffering from blood poisoning, and it was spreading. Spidery lines of black poison broke off from the veins, giving the hand the mottled look of rotting flesh.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Daylighter," Jonathan/Sebastian assured him.

Simon stayed wary, every nerve in his body screaming at him to get as far away from this place as possible. But he knew running would be pointless. Jonathan was faster than him.

"Don't be offended if I don't believe you," Simon said, licking his lips nervously. "You did try to kill my friends, and that tends to break the bonds of trust a little."

Jonathan smirked, his nostrils flaring. "Friends you call them. Tell me, Daylighter, what did Jace Wayland ever do for you. Don't tell me that arrogant little shit hasn't been a menace to you since the day you met him."

There had once been a time when Simon would have described Jace as an 'arrogant little shit', but he was past those days now. Sure, Jace still grated against every nerve in Simon's body when they talked, but that was just who Jace was.

Sebastian laughed softly, a sound the equivalent of nails scraping against a chalkboard. "Come on, Simon. Jace stole Clary from you."

Stole wasn't exactly the right word; Clary had gone willingly enough.

"If it wasn't for Jace, you would still be human, instead of some bloodsucking abomination."

_Lies_. True, the only reason Simon had gone to that party was for Clary, and the only reason Clary went was because Jace had dragged her into the shadow hunter world. But it was completely unfair to place the blame on someone. He had been the one that had tossed the faery drink into the back of his throat, not Jace.

"Did you really just call _me_ the abomination?" Simon asked, forcing out an incredulous laugh. "I'm gunna call you pot from now on, and you can call me kettle."

Something flashed across Jonathan's eyes, and his mouth twisted sharply. He lifted his chin, eyes narrowing. "I am no abomination, vampire. This is what power is."

_If that's power, I don't want it_. Simon bit his lip before the words came out, knowing they would most likely be his last. His fangs had slid out and were poking and his lip painfully. He tried to force them back up, but it was no use, he was on too much of an edge, fear and adrenaline crashing through his body.

"If you're not going to kill me, why are you here?" Simon asked, trying to make his voice steady.

"To talk," Sebastian replied lightly. He placed his hands back into his pockets. "I've been watching you, Daylighter, and I've come to hold a certain fascination for you." He smiled charmingly, eyes like onyx. "Do you know the power you hold? The ability to walk under the sun without turning to ash-," he shook his head wonderingly. "Incredible."

"Not really." Simon was uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking. "You know, about 98 percent of the Earth's population can."

"Not the vampire population." Jonathan's head shifted onto a slight angle, a hunger awakening in his eyes. "Not the demon population."

Simon paused, his eyes narrowing. "How are you alive?" he asked, his fangs causing two beads of blood to swell on his lower lip. "Jace stabbed you in the heart. A kill shot's a kill shot - no matter what you are."

Sebastian flicked his hand, dismissing the question. "I don't want to talk about me, I want to talk about you." His dark eyes glinted as he smiled. Shivers raced each other down Simon's stiff spine. "If you joined me, Simon, think of all the things we could do. Think of the power we could have."

"That's not going to happen," Simon said, tasting bile at the back of his throat. He felt nauseous. "You're an idiot if you think I'll help you kill the people I love."

Sebastian suddenly laughed, the cold, unearthly sound filling the alley and causing a stray cat to take off in fright. "The people you love," he chortled, lips twisting cruelly. "Yes, they seem to love you so much. Clary barely even shows her face to you anymore, Jace has never given you any more attention than he would a slug, and Isabelle-," he let the last name hang in the air, watching Simon's face carefully.

Simon fought to control his emotions, but he could feel himself flinch at the sound of Izzy's name.

"You know," Sebastian continued, leaning against one of the alley walls casually. "I always liked Isabelle the best out of all of them. She always seemed the most like me." He locked Simon in a cold stare. "Cold, aloof, untouched by the weakness _love-_," he said the word mockingly, "- brings. Because she doesn't love, Simon. Especially not you."

Rage made Simon's vision go bright. He could taste the blood from his pierced lips on his tongue, and it made him feel wild. A low growl escaped his throat, a totally inhuman sound.

A spark lit in Jonathan's eyes. "You know it's true. I've been watching her, you know. Like I said, I like her." He smiled sickeningly. "But most men do, right?"

Simon wished he sink his fangs into Sebastian, tear his skin open and watch whatever flowed through his veins pour to the ground. He wanted to see Sebastain scream, for once in his damned life, show _fear, pain_. He wanted to cause that pain.

"Leave Isabelle _alone_," Simon growled, his hands clenched into two fists by his side.

"I would," Jonathan replied, taking a knife from his belt and testing the tip on his finger. "But, you see, she's vowed to kill me. That's something I can't have."

"You-," Simon began, but Jonathan held up a hand, stopping him.

"However," he continued, pushing away from the wall and tossing the dagger into the air, catching it when it came back down, "I could make an exception. If you want, I'll let Isabelle Lightwood live. But only if you join me and do everything I ask of you."

Simon closed his eyes, trying to relax his tense muscles. He had thought all of this was behind him. It was supposed to be over!

"What if I don't?" Simon snapped, ignoring the glittering knife in Sebastian's new hand.

"You and all your friends die." The answer was casual, cold. "I'll leave you until the last, so you can watch me bleed Clary until she's a dried husk, break every bone in angel boy's body, sprinkle silver dust all over that silly little werewolf you all love so much, and tear the skin from Isabelle's bones one inch at a time."

Simon laughed dryly, trying to cover up his nausea. He would do it too, he would do all of it and more. "Not entirely original. Sort of cliché for the evil dude, you know."

Jonathan's jaw stiffened. He walked towards Simon, and the vampire knew he had gone an shade too far. Simon forced himself to stay still as Jonathan stopped right before him, the knife coming up to rest right below his eye.

"It always works in the end," Jonathan told him, his voice full of quiet menace. The dagger pressed against the skin of Simon's face, drawing a drop of blood to the surface. "I'm giving you a way out, vampire. And if I were you, I'd take it, because it's the only way you're going to live after what I have planned. Wouldn't want to waste an immortal life, would we?"

Simon didn't answer, gritting his teeth against the pain the blade was bringing him.

Jonathan suddenly stepped back, quickly stowing the knife back into his belt. He reached into his coat pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. He held it out towards Simon.

"I'll give you a week to decide, Daylighter. You're lucky to have so long. This parchment has a spell on it. All you need to do, is light the paper on fire and a demon will come to take you to me." He unfolded the paper and showed the runes etched onto its surface with black ink. "It will only take you, and if you try to bring any friends it will open a gateway for its fellow demons and they will tear you all to shreds."

Simon cautiously reached out and gripped the paper, studying the strange symbols. They seemed to swim before him.

"If a shadow hunter looked at those, they'd burn his eyes," Jonathan commented lightly. "You don't belong with them, vampire."

With that Jonathan walked past Simon, jostling him slightly as he bumped his shoulder. Simon didn't watch him leave, his eyes still glued to the paper. He knew the instant Jonathan was gone. The alley seemed to lighten, and a breath of fresh, clean air washed over Simon, ruffling his hair. He felt as though a weight had been lifted from his chest.

With shaking hands, he quickly folded the paper and shoved it into his coat pocket. The events of the night suddenly hit him, and he found himself having to lean against the alley wall for support.

"Je-," he choked. He couldn't even say _Jesus_? He was Jewish!

…_she doesn't love, Simon. Especially not you._

Jonathan was wrong about Izzy. She was _nothing_ like him. She loved, of course she loved. She loved Jace and Alec. And she had loved Max so much, his death had nearly brought her to the brink.

And Jonathan would kill them if Simon didn't do something. But what could he do? He wasn't anyone special, he was just some geek who had gotten mixed up in things that were way over his head.

_I need help_, he thought desperately. _I don't know what to do._

He put his head in his hands, trying to stop it from spinning. His fingers tingled as they rubbed the Mark of Cain. Slowly, Simon brought his fingers down from his forehead and looked at them. No change had occurred, but his skin still felt as if little sparks were floating over it. He watched his hand until the sensation had completely vanished.

Yes, he needed help, and he knew just who to go to.

Simon stared up at the doors of the institute. Being this close to the building made his skin crawl. The faces carved into the stone stared down at him, their wild eyes seeming almost to flicker in the dim light. Whether it was his imagination or not, the faces seemed to whisper, "_You don't belong here, unholy one. Leave."_

Suddenly, the door opened a crack, spilling light down the stone steps like white wine. Jace gracefully slid through the crack, his eyes flashing gold as he stared down at Simon.

"Listen, Vampire, I know you're fond of me, but this whole sneaking out in the moonlight thing isn't really my style."

As always, the first words out of Jace's mouth made Simon want to punch him in the face. He settled for rolling his eyes, thrusting his hands into his pocket so he wouldn't be tempted to do anything stupid.

"Would you shut up," Simon snapped irritably. "This is important."

Something in Simon's tone must have caught Jace's attention. His self-satisfied smirk vanished, and he walked down a few more steps. He peered at Simon, squinting slightly on account of the dark.

"I doubt anything concerning you is truly worth my while," Jace drawled, but Simon could see he had caught the Shadow Hunter's attention.

Simon breathed in deeply, summoning all the patience he possessed. Once his fingers released themselves from the fist they had curled into, Simon returned Jace's curious gaze. "I need you to take me to a demon."

There was a pause as Jace absorbed this.

"Take _you_ to a _demon_?" Jace clarified after a moment. He gave a short laugh, but when Simon didn't return the smile, frowned. "I know life's been tough for you lately, Simon, but I'm not really comfortable helping you commit suicide. Only God knows why, but Clary is a slightly fond of you, and she'd be a little upset with me."

Why the hell had he called _Jace_? He could have called Alec, he _should _have called Alec.

"I'm not committing suicide," Simon growled.

"Then what the hell is going through your head?"

Simon paused, taking a short breath. Slowly, his hands shaking slightly, Simon reached up and pushed his bangs out of the way, revealing the Mark to Jace. The Shadow Hunter's tawny gaze locked on the pattern.

"I think," Simon said, his voice carefully controlled, "it's time to see if this thing really works."


End file.
